Rummaging around in a back room closet this morning, I found a couple of boxes of catfight stuff from the late seventies/early eighties – stuff I thought was long gone.
It looks like my housekeeper may have found them first. But, she hasn't called the cops or ratted me out to her friends, apparently. Her mother, who is about my age, is a notorious neighborhood gossip, and if she knows, the whole town knows.
But our mutual friends are still speaking to me, and no police or Southern Baptists have been to the house, so I guess I'm OK.
Think of it as having a mystique. Some people may think more highly of you now...maybe even the housekeeper.
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