As my two readers know perfectly well, Almostgotit tends to get a little worked up about things.
Nor does it help that Dante, one of my weird medievalist friends, has been spreading heinous rumors about me: namely, that I stole a fossil from a certain riverbed full of them, despite there being some sort of giant sign saying people shouldn’t.
As if it would even be wrong to pocket the tiniest little disintegrating fossil that already had broken loose from the massive 200 ACRES of them and was therefore in imminent danger of being ground to dust under someone’s careless foot.
Nevertheless, no unemployed person in her right mind would ever allow the slightest crime of this sort to blemish her record. Certainly I would never, and Dante’s claims are a total fabrication and utter rot, of course.
Dante, however, is the sort who might even call it “stealing” if one were simply to borrow his phrase “Chigger Woode” at some time in the very near future.