I am engaged in an ongoing battle with the sun screen that fits into the windshield on hot days. It is lightweight and made of reflective fabric with a thin bendable frame, that folds up into a small circle and tucks under the seat out of the way. Every time we use this sun screen, I enter the challenge with high hopes. My confidence remains intact as I remove the screen and prepare to bend it into a compact bundle. The screen is obstinate and about a third of the time puts up a rigorous fight, refusing to collapse into place. As I bend one side, the fabric pops out of place on the other side, just like squeezing a proverbial balloon. I hold my breath, making another attempt before Cristy bursts into laughter and takes the screen. She easily bends it into a bundle and I laugh along with her.
On the times that I am able to successfully fold the screen neatly on the first attempt, I smugly stash it into a little spot next to the seat and glance, out of the corner of my eye, to see if Cristy noticed. She coolly pretends that it’s not a big deal, but I secretly imagine that she is impressed with my ability to conquer the beast.
My advice for coping with Lynch Syndrome
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