I was doing some technical work yesterday, of a sort I wouldn’t normally be doing and three small errors multiplied into sixty-five errors (I think they reproduce, like rabbits, when you aren’t looking).
Me, at 11 pm last night:
Sometimes I think my life would have worked out a lot better if I was tall, blonde and gorgeous.
Why is that?
The problem with that thought is that reality would ensure that you’d still have 65 errors, but no-one would take you seriously about your ability to fix them.
Jane in London has it right!
People who are tall, blonde and gorgeous make mistakes too.
So I’ve been told.