Mister just went to bed. Not without a fight, of course. I take a quick shower and (I think) wash my hair twice. I can’t remember if I did it once already or not. I towel off and struggle into my pajamas. As I climb into bed, something doesn’t feel right. Something itches. I drag myself out of bed and trudge to the bathroom. I slide off my pajama bottoms and feel the inside for something pointy. Sometimes I get an elusive splinter that pokes me. Since I’m like The Princess and the Pea, I can’t sleep with that. Nothing there. I feel the outside of my underwear. No splinters there, but I do notice something. I put them on inside-out. Again. It is the second time this week. The elastic on the outside, the part that isn’t supposed to touch your skin, is what’s bugging me.
If I can’t even get my underwear on the right way, who am I to critique someone else’s writing?
What happens when someone asks you for critique?