There have been a number of occasions recently where Mrs J felt she needed to own up to feelings and actions that she’s not proud of. And she’s felt seriously better for doing so.

Tonight she’s not feeling very serious, really. But there is an element of shame involved. Because, after all, who laughs at someone in pain at the dentist? Even if the subject is there voluntarily and for purely cosmetic reasons. Even if it would be for a story?

Mrs J thinks of that post every time she considers doing something for the sake of a story. Not to mention when she considers going to the dentist.

After she’s recovered her breath and picked up whatever she dropped in the fit of laughter that inevitably ensues.

Mrs J also remembers laughing, hard, very hard, at wipeouts in the slalom beginners slope. Especially if it involved her sister eating Norwegian snow.

Sorry, sis.

She suspects she’s not alone in finding wipeouts funny. Considering the traffic wipeout clips get. And the number of wipeout shows on TV.

Still, she cringes with guilt while still snorting with laughter.

She knows it’s wrong.

She just can’t help herself.