Activation of my refined social filter (finally)

On Friday, my refined, mature social filter kicked on. I’ve been waiting for it to appear for years. Decades. (I’m old.) Here’s how it went down.

In the card aisle, on a birthday card, I spied a picture of a brown bear juggling. As a juggler, it caught my eye. Based only on the picture, this would be a perfect happy birthday for anyone I know.

The words were funny. The target recipient would find them funny.

A weird hesitation itched behind my left elbow. (I never hesitate. I’m always sure. What is this?) I called said recipient’s best friend and left a message to call me back. While I waited, I continued shopping in the stupid market.

After a couple minutes I realized I was looking for something like a hiding place. But not really a hiding place–more like a private place–somewhere where I could read her the card without anyone hearing me.

Without anyone hearing me? my refined social filter asked.

Where did that come from? the rest of me asked. If it’s funny, just send it.

Laura, come on girl. Think.

And that’s when I realized I couldn’t send the card. If I can’t read a card out loud in the stupid market, the only peeps I may send it to are my sisters, my brother, and maybe Meg. And Christa. And Bob H. That’s a short list.

I said goodbye to Rodney the Bear, and reluctantly, yet piously (yes, you can be both at once), put the card back.  Now I know where the GO/NO GO bar is set, and from now on I’ll employ the Read-It-Out-Loud-in-Stupid-Market Test.


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