You May As Well Know (Part 1)
I suppose I'll continue to do stupid things. More than once I have, after drinking too much wine, fallen backwards from a precarious seat, flat on my back. Once, while displaying my razor-sharp intellect I looked commandingly into the eyes of a respected friend and mispronounced the word "moot". As I recall, I have also mangled the word "indictment".
Maybe I'll be smarter now. I'm on my own, I have no one to counteract, no one to put in really good light next to my chronic faux pas. You may as well know, I am a moron when it comes to American or any other history. I have memory of learning not one thing in any history class. And I grew up in a hopelessly white trash environment. Unlike Holly Golightly, I was never able to transform myself into a glamorous socialite with a mysterious accent. I once, and not all that long ago, bought a suede jacket with fringe. Not to mention picking out glasses that look like thick black-rimmed aging-rat pack goggles.I did have the sense to take the jacket back, but seriously, where was my head?
I have no sense of direction and have never reached a new destination without getting hopelessly lost, and to read a map I have to turn it to match the direction in which I am driving. Is this a form of cognitive impairment or what?
(to be continued, no doubt)
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