Quite a while back while pumping gas a service station worker walked up to me and said, “Ma’am, you’re folding your arms like you want to fight.” Fight? Who me?!?!? I’ve never been in a fight in my life, unless you consider a fight for my life. Honestly, at the time, I was thinking about whether it was more important to keep the raging wind from blowing up my at-the-knee skirt or blowing off my wig, mixed with thoughts about how gas went from $3.27 when I left home at 5:30am to $3.39 at 5:30pm. I was thinking of what I was going to cook for dinner, what a long day it had been,  if I was going to unpack my suitcase, what to do about an unexpected debt and how I wish I had someone to fold the clothes from my overflowing clothes basket.

At the time, completely unaware of having…