Some people are of the impression that confession is good for the soul. Confession is good for the soul only in the sense that a tweed coat is good for dandruff--it's a palliative rather than a remedy. That being said, I prefer to deny, deny, deny.

This week, I did NOT actually, REALLY consider ramming the lady in front of me repeatedly at the Wal-Mart when she got in the express lane, pulled out a 20 dollar bill, and asked for change. Not dollar bills. Actual. silver. coins. Not just quarters.....really, I did NOT almost assault her, and need to be bailed out of jail.


It's not me who got 5 birthday presents from this fabulous guy who also happens to be my husband.


I did not come very close to putting black permanent marker on my lips. Life is not slightly hectic here in the morning before school, and I did not reach for my lip gloss, feel an object that felt like my lip gloss, and proceed to take the cap off and begin to put it to my lips before I figured out that the thing was not my lip gloss but actually a fine-tipped black Sharpie.
That was not almost a really embarrassing mistake.

I didn't stay home from church yesterday just because I'm paranoid that Elek will catch some little punk's germs from the church nursery. It's not Elek who gets sick within days of being in the nursery...every single time. Last time it totally wasn't roseola and a fever that went up to 104.8 that he didn't catch.

It's ridiculous to think that I called Madison this week on my cell phone, when I
was in our living room and she was upstairs, just because I was too lazy to go out there. That's silly and I certainly did not do that.