Il mio bambina, it is most definitely not necessary to tell our row-mates on the plane that I sometimes, very occasionally, discard my socks in the living room and then forget to retrieve them. Kudos to you, however, for your ability to construe my gentle attempts to dissuade you as an invitation to double-down on the volume and intensity of your hosiery-related complaint.
I only hope that I may, on a day not so far in the future, show the same fortitude in the face of adversity when regaling a suitor with reciprocal tales of casually deviant behavior.
This all makes me wonder how many of the bombs that my parents lobbed into my life were in retaliation for affronts I don’t recall and didn’t even understand. And, like so many of my thought processes, this leads inexorably to the question: how can anyone doubt that humanity is doomed?