it's the little things

I never use a comb. I haven't used one since I was about 11!

As a family, we lived in a new two level home that my Dad was able to afford with his GI loan. Bedrooms were on the second floor while  the recreation room, and laundry were in the basement, while the kitchen, dining area and living room were on the first level.

My bedroom was close to the bathroom and next to my parents' room. My sister's smaller room was the first up the stairs and on the other side of my parents' room.

My Dad was always first in the bathroom during the week. He had the challenge of walking to the train, then riding the train to work. One day, he came bursting into my room scaring me to death. He was screaming that he couldn't find his comb. I don't know what was the final result of this explosion, if he found his comb or not. 

I do know that after that incident, I have never used a comb. That is not the complete effect. I still get excited and upset if someone accuses me of something I didn't do. Now, as then, I simply don't respond. I am learning not to even get riled inside. That is a great achievement!