Because overactive imagination isn't transferred by genetics.

Tonight I decided to take a walk when I got home from work. Because the only exercise I've gotten in the past two days has been walking from my desk to the printer and back. Which is exactly 3 and a half steps. Round trip.

I left my house and was heading down the block when it occurred to me that the distance to the bus stop is possibly only a bit further than the printer in my office. And here I spent all those years bemoaning the marathon walk! Because it was uphill both ways!

I was just about back home when I passed a couple of women walking towards me. My first thought was "oh, that's my neighbor David's Mom and the woman that lived at his house too." My second thought was "who is that other woman?" And then, as if modern times smacked me across the face, my third thought was "LESBIANS! THEY ARE LESBIANS! THEY HAVE ALWAYS BEEN LESBIANS!" Thrilled at my discovery, I came down the front steps with old adages echoing through my mind about how blind we are when we are young and how sweet it is to think of a time when we are young enough not to judge. And then I came inside and declared my discovery to my Dad ("Dad! Our neighbors are lesbians!").

"No they're not," he said. "Some guy lives there too. Some guy that walks a pit bull every night."

"Maybe that's someone else?"

"No. That's the guy who lives there. You just made all the rest up."

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