Later in the evening I literally (and I know what that word means) laughed out loud when I read the following in the Wimpy Catholic's blog about attending a discernment retreat (to see if one is called to enter a religious community):
The retreat ran from Friday evening through Sunday morning. I bunked with the recovering addict and the drooler. Both nights, I was the last to fall asleep. Both nights, as I lay awake in that dark room, farts like a camel’s lowing blared from the drooler’s bed, filling me, to my surprise, with an almost paternal tenderness.
I am in my early 50's, but my sense of humor has never matured to the point that I can refrain from prolonged laughter at flatulence (also belching). Any by prolonged, I mean much longer than anyone else would continue to laugh, even 6-year-olds. I just can't stop.
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