I was just in Rochester, N.Y., to give a lecture at the New York Chiropractic College on nutrition. I was flown up there, all expenses paid (just lovely, let me tell you, coming from someone self-employed for the last 20 years) and since I was in charge of the arrangements, I made them to suit me.

Which meant that I stayed in a Bed & Breakfast in the historic part of town, complete with big trees and ginormous houses. As I was checking in, the nice chatty lady said to me,

“Are you here to pick up a child?”

It really takes something to leave me speechless. My mind goes a mile a minute (although with a little wine, maybe a half a mile) so to leave me THAT nonplussed — well, let’s just say that we stared at each other for a bit. Mostly, the overwhelming thought was, “Rochester is some hotbed for adoption? Really?”

The nice lady figured out after a minute that I was totally confused, and clarified that lots of people “come to pick up their child from one of the universities in town.” That didn’t help either, since immediately my brain was screaming,

“BUT I’M NOT OLD ENOUGH TO HAVE A KID IN COLLEGE!!!”

Ah, grasshopper, but you are.

How depressing.