I freely admit I have faults.
Many, many faults.
I can expect a lot of others, and let myself off the hook. Or vice versa. Neither is good.
I am too big and too slow. And in too much pain too often. My doing. No blame to share. I work on it.
I am quick to judge, but get really upset when I feel a shade, a sliver of judgment upon me.
I am not the friend or family member I can be. It’s hard. There is guilt. I work on it.
What I can’t abide, is the copious amount of mistakes in my last post.
My wife cannot abide either.
She says, “No more!”
Meet her, she of the read through. She of the red pen.
Meet the editor.
Bow before her.