The Accused.

(This is me today, accused, even in my innocent, puritan garb.  What gives?)

Guilty, guilty, guilty!  I've had my integrity questioned twice today.  The up-side of it all: I was innocent on both counts.  Sounds like a double-murder or something.  Not to worry.

1. A bill collector for a dentist's office in another town.  Never been there, Ben's DOB was wrong, etc. 

2. Library saying I was missing 3 books from a "Shapes" kit ($150 to replace if lost).  I laid out the kits contents, counted everything, made sure it was all there before returning it this morning.  She didn't want to count the books again, but I kept insisting until she did. 

It feels awful to be accused of something, especially when you're innocent.  Yucky-nervous-tummy-awful!  The accuser, so sure of your guilt, treating you like an imbecile and you wondering if you've made some gross oversight.  Blah.  Just so you know, I hate being treated like an idiot (remember, I'm Atilla the Hun, right?). 

From the other guy's point of view,  he has to assume [in today's world] that people will lie to avoid responsibility for their retardedness.  Poor, poor bill collector.  Why anyone would choose that job is beyond me!  Talk about a perpetual bad mood.  And the librarian, trying to refute my claims in her sweet, whispered, library-ish voice.  Sweet lady (can you hear my pity).

Basically, confrontations stink, but they're unavoidable.  It doesn't mean I have to like them, so I'll just have to get used to them.

Hey, did YOU take my last piece of gum? 
Yeah right, excuses, excuses. 
What are you, an imbecile [or one of my children]? 
Kidding:). 
See, not fun at all!