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A perverted form of pride is inordinate self-esteem.


In the fall after we married Barbara took some drapes and a quilt to the cleaners. One afternoon she asked if I wanted to go with her to get them. The young girl behind the counter was feeling her oats – hair cut just right, permed just right, moussed just right.


I was puzzled by the bill. The quilt was $9 and the drapes $23.50, but the prices were on the opposite lines from the items. I thought it a strange way to run a railroad.


She offered to explain the bill to me – “This is the quilt, see? Q-u-i-l-t.” On the way home I asked my Honey if she would have been embarrassed if I had smarted off with the girl. Well, I got my chance – All the drapes still had spots on them. So I took them back and said, “Well, you spelled for me. Let me spell for you. These are spots, see? S-p-o-t-s.”