perspective
Once upon a time I thought I drank and swore like a sailor. Then I moved to Dublin and realized I was actually some sort of Girl Scout. Apparently I...acclimatized to Irish standards a little and now that we're back in Boston I keep catching myself language-wise and realizing that by local standards I am totally crass. The first week we were here, I was trying to take the dog for a walk and T kept asking me questions and generally slowing down my departure, and then as I was finally leaving, leaned out the door to yell something after me. I yelled back, "What the FUCK, Trevor?!?" about a half second before I noticed one of the neighbors out in her yard*, which led to the realization that this was not so much acceptable behavior. And luckily it was midday and all the kids usually swarming around were in school. I am getting somewhat better, but was out with the dog just now and she leapt out into the street and I said, quite conversationally really, "what the FUCK, Sascha?" and realized that not only do I have a ways to go, but that I speak to the dog exactly as I speak to my husband.
*I apologized to the neighbor, who was really very nice about it.
*I apologized to the neighbor, who was really very nice about it.