Our rescue squad raises money by sending local residents information about the squad along with a donation request. Their most recent mailing included a shiny pamphlet with one whopper of a Freudian slip.
My raucous hilarity has an edge to it. I want to point and make fun—and I do—but it's a glass house-and-stones thing for me. I've played the fool more times than I even know (and please, don't tell me). I'm all too familiar with the shame of looking (alright, being) the idiot. It stings.
And yet, I can't stop laughing. Seriously, severing?
PS. BEWARE OF NEIGHBORS. THEY'RE DANGEROUS.
This same time, years previous: win-win, splash, zucchini pasta salad, in the pits, tangential thoughts, and cooked oatmeal.