Friday Excuses & Saturday Bragging?
This prompt is a little late! So in honor of that, list us all the excuses you use when you're late to whatever important thing you happen to be late to.
I'm terribly sorry, I:
Do not speak of your happiness to one less fortunate than yourself.
Plutarch
Oddly enough, I feel like I'm violating this advice whenever I complain, usually about things in my past. Why? Because whenever I do, I'm reminded of the fact that I grew up rich. All of my needs were met, and I had every physical comfort a child might want. The same is not true of my friends. All of them grew up in middle-class to poor homes. They had parents who both worked, wore hand-me-down clothes, had to make do with second-hand toys. Even Doc, who tells me he grew up in very good circumstances, wasn't as rich as I was.
So, every time I complain, I -- I keep thinking that they're basically saying to themselves: "Yes, what horrible problems the rich pampered boy must have faced." I feel like I'm flaunting my wealth without even meaning to! Surely my problems are minor compared to what they may have gone through.
I'm terribly sorry, I:
- got distracted drawing (insert subject here) (I remember this mainly from the time I had to tell Father that as an excuse for not meeting his friends -- he wasn't impressed)
- was chasing butterflies and lost track of time
- got lost (this happens from time to time in Wonderland Park)
- completely forgot about it, do forgive me
- didn't realize it was today!
- had something else I needed to attend to (this is the one I usually tell customers when I couldn't get to them right away)
Do not speak of your happiness to one less fortunate than yourself.
Plutarch
Oddly enough, I feel like I'm violating this advice whenever I complain, usually about things in my past. Why? Because whenever I do, I'm reminded of the fact that I grew up rich. All of my needs were met, and I had every physical comfort a child might want. The same is not true of my friends. All of them grew up in middle-class to poor homes. They had parents who both worked, wore hand-me-down clothes, had to make do with second-hand toys. Even Doc, who tells me he grew up in very good circumstances, wasn't as rich as I was.
So, every time I complain, I -- I keep thinking that they're basically saying to themselves: "Yes, what horrible problems the rich pampered boy must have faced." I feel like I'm flaunting my wealth without even meaning to! Surely my problems are minor compared to what they may have gone through.