Last week, as I was walking out of therapy…


Lord! Do I need therapy. I do have friends, y’all. But I try not to overwhelm them with my crazies. My paid therapist not only saves my confused ass, she also saves my friends from having to save my confused ass. But I digress.


So I was walking out of my therapist’s office and I nearly knocked down – for reals – Mr. Stevie Wonder. I didn’t knock him down though, and in fact, I didn’t come into contact with him at all. I just gave him his space and allowed his escort to lead him down the hall. I didn’t say anything, either.


And that, friends, was the week’s brush with greatness. Pretty good one, I’d have to say.

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