Beating yourself up over a mistake is a self-deprecating act of masturbation. Even though I know I should get over it, it takes me far too long these days to move along from life’s little demonic scenarios. So what if I missed a meeting the other morning? I just plum forgot about it. It took some shine of the apple I left for teacher, but honestly wouldn’t you rather a person be human than perfect. Perfect people are far too freaky deaky with their rituals. They have something to hid and are probably sneaky little turd burglars roaming around neighbourhoods and rest stops.

These days I seem to be making plenty of mistakes whether a missed meeting or a minor parking lot tango. I sure must be learning a lot or fate has intervened to get me off my high horse.