I know when I’m wrong because I can feel it, I don’t feel light and airy, instead I feel weighed down because there are times when I don’t want to own up to being wrong. Those times are for the most part all tied to my husband. We’ll have an argument and if I am feeling testy instead of acknowledging that I could have been wrong and apologizing, I dig in deeper and even though deep down I know that I am not being fair, I won’t budge. It is very rare because I am generally easy going, but when those rare moods occur, I just see red and I become obstinate over things that normally never bother me, there isn’t really any rhyme or reason. I can’t predict these moods but thankfully there remain very rare.

That feeling of being wrong is very palpable, I feel it physically so I know it in a physical way. But here I’ve been talking about being wrong on an emotional level. Factually, I haven’t any trouble acknowledging the possibility of being wrong, my memory is shot so I know first hand that there is a good possibility that I might be wrong. I think that facts deserve to be treated with respect and dignity, I don’t want to misrepresent the facts if I can help it. There is too little by way of holding facts to the highest regard in the national discussion. I do not want to contribute to that sad phenomena where facts are tossed aside in the war of being right.