The Angel and I can’t agree whether my dislike of the people of a (small) country amounts to rascism. He says it does, I say it doesn’t. I don’t like them, true – mainly because their faces are inscrutinable and when they smile I think it fake. But I don’t look down on them or wish them eradicated. So, I hope, that means I am not a racist. Just full of shit with regards to ………. people. Pleading mitigating circumstances: I myself don’t like my dislike. If I could un-dislike I would in a jiffy – and with relief.
One of my worst case scenarios I conjure up in idle moments when no other catastrophe to befall me comes to mind that the Angel will fall in love with a member of said country. I can see it now. I know I will be a good loving sweet mother-in-law to any of my son’s choices but please please please do spare me to test my mettle in the face of a strong and generalized dislike. Having said that: As far as I am concerned the Angel could marry an ugly snarly monster from an as yet unknown planet with charms not obvious to me and I’d trust his judgment. I just hope that his children will – both facially and temperamentally – be their father’s likeness.
And this was meant to be a most pleasant post about cats. Yes, that easily one thought of mine dislocates another.