I was watching an episode of Monk a few days ago — the old show about the seriously compulsive and anxious police consultant in San Francisco — and someone said to the odd man, “It must be nice always being right.” Monk gave him an anxious look and said something along the lines of, “Not so much as you’d think.”
So true. You see, I’m one of those poor unfortunates who are always right. Actually, that’s not the part of it that’s not so much as you’d think. It’s how many people refuse to recognize and/or admit it.
I’m a firm believer that everyone is entitled to their own opinion. I’m also a firm believer that anyone whose opinion doesn’t match mine is wrong.
My husband and our son fall into that wrong category. They’re both intelligent men, so you’d think after thirty-plus years together, they would have arrived at that conclusion and stopped arguing with me. Sadly, that hasn’t happened.
Sigh . . . well, guess it’s a burden I’ll continue to bear.
(:?) That to the left is my tongue in my cheek.