So, the highlight of my week was a Facebook, um, conversation with my sister. This is the same sister, my favorite sister, who for several years was on Facebook boycott but who decided, about a year ago, that she missed being connected to people she couldn’t see everyday. Meaning people who do not live in Minnesota. Meaning, among others, me.

And in case you are thinking that it is very uncharitable of me to single out a favorite sister, you need to know that she is my only sister. And even though I asked God to please bring me a kitty cat instead of a baby sister when my mother was pregnant, I’m glad God didn’t listen to that particular prayer.

Anyway, my sister, who used to teach ballet and now is an ob/gyn, posts lots of funny and interesting links and articles, most of which I enjoy, even though some I could do without, like the one about vaginal steam cleaning (her post was, in essence: DO NOT DO THIS).

One of Margaret’s favorite sources to share is The Blogess, because, well, The Blogess. I am pretty sure I introduced Margaret to Jenny Lawson’s blog after my friend Mary, who is very funny, shared what remains one of the funniest posts I have ever read ever, mostly because it describes a situation that sort of actually happened in my own household, and one that sort of actually happened in my sister’s household, because all of us – Jenny Lawson, Margaret and I (and probably Mary) – are married to men who could not accept “because I fucking feel like it” as a suitable reason for buying new bathroom towels.

So Tuesday afternoon while I was sitting in the carpool line, I was scrolling through the  Facebook feed on my phone and saw this: