Last Tuesday’s adventure
I reached inside my purse for my wallet, to see, I suppose, if an angel had miraculously tucked a fifty into one of its pockets. I knew I hadn’t, sure as death and taxes.
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forgetfulness
Handmade notes of Thanksgiving
Confession: Sometimes I am tired of confessing my idiocies. If you’re tired of hearing of them, don’t worry—you’re not nearly as tired as I am of committing them. I told Alison this week that “any organizational/ navigational skills I have are a desperate attempt to get a handle on my naturally forgetful and scatterbrained self.
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