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For my last trip of the summer, I’m happily ensconced with a dear friend in Maine. We were wandering around her pretty town last week and found ourselves looking (as we often are) for a place to make a pit stop. My friend hit on the church standing high above the main street. Surely a couple of needy pilgrims would be welcomed there. We tried the back doors: locked. The imposing front doors: locked. As we walked away, a young man came running out of the side of the building. “Hi ladies! Were you looking for a tour?”
No, we told him, bashfully, only for a bathroom. Slightly disappointed, he gestured to the harbor. “Public bathrooms down there,” he said. We knew that. “We were hoping for a more… spiritual experience,” I said, making prayer hands. “In fact,” said my friend, “we are the Sisters of Perpetual Urination.”
“Oh!” he said, laughing. “Please come this way.”
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Now for what I hope is the final word on prescription retinoids.
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