Twenty years ago I applied to have my home refinanced. At one point the inspector came out to the house to look around inside. He noticed my meditation altar and the photos of Sathya Sai Baba in each of the rooms. He told me his brother was a devotee and we had a short discussion about it. I went back to work in my office and he back to his inspection. Suddenly I heard a crash and yelled out, “Don’t worry I can pick that up later.” He came out and he was very cool and distant the rest of the visit. I didn’t think much of it and went back to work. It wasn’t until hours later I remembered the crash and went into the room to see what it was. Apparently when he opened the closet door, it caught on the zipper of my husband’s duffle bag. He’d moved out of town a year earlier, storing his belongings in my back bedroom. It unzipped and all the contents fell onto the floor. The contents were his video porn collection, you know the kind with the scantily clad naughty nurse, etc. on the cover? I smiled that the inspector said nothing to me before he left. I bet his perception of me changed a few times between the time he stepped inside and the time he left. You can’t judge a book by its cover.