Smooth transitions


This month at work, a brand-new employee found an occasion to lecture me on what my company's priorities are, although she acknowledged, eventually, that she and I both learned these priorities at the same meeting.  I silently forgave her because she's so much younger than me.  Last month when my Dad said crazy things (previous post), I forgave him because he's so much older than me.  I don't like where this is going.  

I'll end up forgiving everyone around me for what I perceive to be shortcomings, until it gets to me.  I can't forgive myself because I'm not so much younger or older than me.  Never have been.

Different subject:  At the cat shelter where I help out occasionally, a staffer told me they used to have an adoption room dedicated to those cats who had herpes; they called it the Herpes Room.  The staffer added that some visitors were reluctant to enter a room with that name, even though the disease did not travel from cats to humans.  I admitted that I would probably avoid the Herpes Room as well as the Herpes Closet if there was one.  In the end, we agreed that a good name for an Edgar Allan Poe story would be The Tale of the Herpes Vestibule. 

Yet another subject: The in-house bakery at my neighborhood grocery store has an aisle display of European French Bread.  My fondest wish to you in the coming year is that all your French Bread be European.