Whatever made me think that a person with as much hair as I have, could work a wispy haircut?
Why do I think I can do things halfway?
How did I end up knee deep again in the volunteer work that propelled me into a near catatonic state?
Do I have a Mother Teresa thing going on?
Why didn't I buy the rather ugly boots with the grippers built right into the sole?
Shouldn't a person who has two languages try to be articulate in at least one of them?
Will another bangle on my arm bring me happiness?
Can I start over from about 1980?