Especially since I, as an unrepentant sinner and general scalawag, might offend her sensibilities as a teacher in a Christian school with the myriad of questionable subjects upon which I write and the vulgar language I use.
Then again, like the farmer with a stalk of volunteer corn in his soybean field, she had to have an idea that I was bound to be no good.
Forgive me Miss Suttill... I know not what I do.
