Scarlet Letters

It once took me six months to buy oven mitts. I am not, by nature, an indecisive person. But I am a researcher. Before committing to anything, I research extensively to make sure I'm making a good choice: the highest quality for the lowest price within the limits of my budget. I plan, I make lists... to look at my house (and my car) you would not think of me as a type A personality, and according to the tests I found on the internet, I'm not. Experts wrote those, man! But in this one area, I definitely meet the criteria. In college, I had this neat pair of cow-splotch oven mitts. They (and my cow-splotch canister set and kitchen towel) were a housewarming gift from my grandmother for my first apartment. Those mitts carried countless pans of cookies through college apartments, my first home as a married woman, the birth of my son and the throes of my divorce. They finally burned through to my fingers in my post-divorce apartment. I had known I needed new mitts, mind you. B...

Tomorrow I have to go into court and argue a case before a judge. This is slightly outside my job description. I can't recall a time when I've been so nervous. Getting engaged was less terrifying. Watch me stride on stage and sing a song. Mugged three times, didn't have time to be scared (and won all three fights). Even the Meanest Judge in All the Land wasn't as frightening as this, because at least I didn't know I was going into the lion's den until I got there. Some folks have asked what the lawsuit is about. This is my attempt to answer that question, and maybe you'll know why I'm nervous. Some time ago, Jimmy's doctor sent him for an X-ray to the lab next door. We thought it was part of his doctor's office; they have labs in most locations. Turns out it was operated by [Hospital Redacted], which then billed us for $238. Jimmy's insurance, which was worth about as much as the stick of gum you don't get in a pack of baseball ca...