It is eight o'clock in the morning. The teenagers either sleep or furtively keep to their rooms. Making nary a sound, I have stolen the one iPad with cellular Internet service. A quick glance at Facebook reveals that many of my friends, blessedly, still wear the same earring size they wore in high school. Also, an adorable kitten has befriended a goldfish.
Oh, cruel world! To unfold such dramatic events when I have time traveled back to the wild and uncivilized 1990s.
Still, I am descended from the perseverant stock of raisin ranchers, military men, and drunkards. I will survive. But-- quick--a door! To the closet!
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11 comments:
Well, in case you haven't heard, they're planning to run a freeway under my home instead of yours. Can I hide in your closet?
Har. Up a dark river, without a paddle. And me having serious issues with the captcha. Wish I had something more witty and wise to write here.
You are hilarious, Margaret.
About that freeway, it's going to ruin every home within miles, including the mayor's, and mine, and the Rose Bowl.
Actually it's not, because we're not going to let it happen.
Back in the closet. PA, we can agree tha your plight is worse than mine, but I really think that that plan will never happen, and it would actually go right by house.
Margaret, you crack me up. That freeway through Dena - not so funny.
The closet? That's just sad. And claustrophobic, unless you have a California Closet.
Hope it was a big closet and you haven't suffocated!
Alison xx
Margaret, you must tell us why you're so confident the plan will never happen. I need a pick-me-up about this one.
Good luck with the hiding... and the negating of the freeway. Usually I'm trying to play possum on a Sunday morning so the 4-year-old thinks I'm still sleeping and I can read a few more pages before having to be Momma again...
Margaret, you are so funny! Love it!
You could put a little pull-down table top in the closet, a folding chair; a mini-office/writing space.
I can't begin to imagine it. Be brave, Margaret, and godspeed.
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