Bury our hearts in the attic
Me: I'll just print out these poems in preparation for tomorrow night's weird fiction reading.
Printer: *prints all pages mirror-reversed except for the one whose title is in Yiddish*
Me: . . . so we have sheydim in the printer?
My mother: Why not?
(I showed her what had happened by holding the pages up in a mirror. She believes I should do my reading tomorrow from the reversed pages, using a mirror. I am, I think not unreasonably, a little concerned about what I might get if I do.)
Printer: *prints all pages mirror-reversed except for the one whose title is in Yiddish*
Me: . . . so we have sheydim in the printer?
My mother: Why not?
(I showed her what had happened by holding the pages up in a mirror. She believes I should do my reading tomorrow from the reversed pages, using a mirror. I am, I think not unreasonably, a little concerned about what I might get if I do.)

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I am, I think not unreasonably, a little concerned about what I might get if I do.
Could it make things worse? Might as well give it a try!
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I'm hanging on to these pages. They're too weird to throw out. Maybe I'll bring them to the rescheduled reading in January.