That Darn Wendy!
I recounted my tale of running away from a skunk the other night and Wendy incredulously asked, "You actually ran away from a skunk?" I replied, "Yes, I really did," as I made running movements with my arms. "And as you ran away, did a bucket of white paint fall down your back, too?" she quipped.
Why do I so often feel like my life is a cartoon?