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  • Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. I knew you were in trouble. Uh oh, I thought. It's all gonna hit the fan.

    Slow motion agony, revisited empathy. (For this happens time and time again; when WILL we learn?)

    I will love you but could you just clean up your act a little? I will love you but could you just eat slower or walk faster or remember better or... (add latest gripe here). And, another thing, could you just jump through this hoop I have constructed out of my extensive collection of ideas of what is right and what is wrong and what is good and what is bad?

    Sometimes it all gets to be too much, doesn't it? I mean the living with another person, the clash of nesting styles, the differences in tastes, the varied preferences. Add, in my case, a different culture and you have a recipe for what feels like disaster but always ends up being humble pie when I am paying attention to the truth of things. And the truth of things is this:

    Love does not have a big but.











    This story written in response to two of Clem Page's stories. One in which he posted a picture of his wife's somewhat messy vanity table with good natured jabs at her (which he subsequently deleted). And another in which he apologized to his wife for being so insensitive.
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