Probability: the extent to which an event is likely to occur, measured by the ratio of the favorable cases to the whole number of cases possible.
Have you ever pondered why it always seems when you look your absolute worst, and you are forced to wander into town for something, you will run into EVERYONE you know? I mean, really!
Think of it…you’ve got a bad case of the epizootie, your eyes are all gooped up, your nose is running non-stop, and you venture into the Walmart for some meds…and BOOM…suddenly it’s a High School and/or family reunion. You will run into 4 old classmates, 2 first cousins, your grandma, and your weird uncle.
You’ve made the important decision that leggings ARE, in fact, pants…you’re wearing your Class of 2004 hoodie…have no makeup on, and your hair is in what MIGHT pass as a loose bun, and you’re wearing Jesus sandals…although you JUST needed a gallon of milk…prepare yourselves, ladies…you’re going to run into your pastor, several deacons, and the leader of Ladies Bible Study.
I don’t know why it is this way, but the worse you look, the higher the chance that you will run into everyone.
That, dear friends, is probability. As well as just another facet in Small Town Life.
You’ve made the important decision that leggings ARE, in fact, pants…you’re wearing your Class of 2004 hoodie…have no makeup on, and your hair is in what MIGHT pass as a loose bun, and you’re wearing Jesus sandals…although you JUST needed a gallon of milk…prepare yourselves, ladies…you’re going to run into your pastor, several deacons, and the leader of Ladies Bible Study.
I don’t know why it is this way, but the worse you look, the higher the chance that you will run into everyone.
That, dear friends, is probability. As well as just another facet in Small Town Life.
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