I don't like surprises. In fact, I despise them. I can't stand not knowing something that other people know; whatever the secret is, I have a pathological need to be informed. I read the ends of mysteries before the beginnings. I got an ultrasound to determine the sex of my baby as soon as I possibly could. (I can't understand those folks who cool their heels for nine months in ignorant bliss.) And don't even think about throwing me a... More >>>