Karma at the urinal

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My parents visited from Florida a few days ago. They’re wonderful people. Like, the best.

Mom also happens to be fantastic with a needle and thread, and I’m not. So I asked if she’d mind sewing a button onto my favorite shorts. She agreed. The wife overhead, and was moderately horrified. “You asked your mom to sew your shorts?” she said.

“Um, yes.”

“You should be able to do that for yourself,” she said.

And, indeed, she’s right. But Mom was here and she’s my mother and she’s loving and … did I mention how skillful she is with a needle and thread?

Anyhow, two minutes ago, here at Nature’s Brew cafe, I was taking a piss and the button dislodged from my shorts, bounced off the rim of the urinal and fell in. My No. 1 guiding life principle is to never make another person’s existence more difficult based upon your misdeeds. So, with great hesitation, I wrapped my hand in paper, grabbed the button and threw it out.


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