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March 4 - March 5, 2024
My mom is a lovely person. But she also must have ostrich ancestry somewhere in her family tree, because she can stick her head in the sand with the best of them.
“Yeah. I know. Flying pigs are skating on an ice rink in hell right now.”
Also, the amount of times your phone bings with messages has gone down by seven hundred and eighty-nine percent.” My stomach lurches but I concentrate on channeling a skeptical glance in her direction. “Are you making up random stats again?” “No. Brett keeps track of it. He has a graph and everything.” Brett is the guy who sits in the cubicle next to mine. Oops.