Question of the day:  “How do I talk into the telephone?” No, it’s not some wonky novelty telephone shaped like Betty Boop or anything. It’s a standard telephone.

There will be more. I have no Percs. Tolerance level: Low.

UPDATE: 4 p.m.: I played tennis for two hours on the outdoor courts near my house today just to get away from the relentless nagging. When I returned, my daughter pulled me into the powder room and hugged me. “She has not stopped bugging me for two hours. She either nags me or asks me 100 pointless questions. I cannot believe what you have to tolerate. I am SO GLAD you’re my mother and never do that shit.”

The minute I exit the powder room, however, she starts in on me. She just gave me shit for failing to take the cocktail shrimp ring out of the freezer last night. “You’re supposed to thaw them out overnight in the refrigerator!!! Now we won’t be able to eat them!!!”

I retreat to my boudoir so that I don’t put her into a headlock and smash her noggin through the antique china cabinet she constantly tells me I don’t polish enough. She just opened the door and walked right in.

“Why do you keep your bread in the freezer?” she asks snidely.

“Because it goes stale and Alex only eats toast anyway, so we just pop it in the toaster.”

“Well your daughter wants a sandwich. I managed to find two slices of leftover bread in the breadbox that you didn’t use for the stuffing. Is she allowed to have those slices?”

“YES, for God’s sake. You came upstairs and walked into my room to ask me if my daughter could have two slices of bread? YES! OF COURSE!”

But I know the real reason she interrupted my peace and quiet. The real reason was to shame me because I keep my bread in the freezer. I am a bad person. Only idiots freeze their bread.

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