It’s not on my calendar, but it must be Pick Your Nose in Public Day. I ventured out of my cave for a mere hour – everywhere I looked – a nose picker. In the post office, at the pharmacy, in the drive-through line at the bank, in a store. These pickers were elegant older ladies and men in suits. Repulsive. REPULSIVE, people!
Alas, there is no hope for the area where I live. Thirty miles down the road, female church groups are “Pole Dancing for Jesus“. Allegedly, a former exotic dancer teaches the ancient art choreographed to Christian tunes. Eight-inch heels required. I know, I know, every saint has a past and every sinner has a future. BUT I FIND THIS FRIGGING APPALLING. IN. SO. MANY. WAYS. God only knows what’s next.
Am literally all over the map for a while. Unemployed, unencumbered and five great destinations. Go figure. Must be because I’m not a public picker and/or pole dancer. Finally doing some things right!