Of course

My house went to hell during the last two weeks of finishing the manuscript. So I’m cleaning. My kitchen was in a complete shambles, and I just let the dog dirt fall where it would from the rugs when I took them out to clean them (the rugs, not the dogs), so my kitchen/mud porch floors looked like a dirt bike trail. And that is the moment when my mother, who believes that cleanliness is next to Joan Crawfordness, walked in the back door.

She commented on the floors, then asked if someone was coming. (Hello? How did I get the reputation that I only clean when someone’s due to visit—shut up, Tim!) Little does she know that, indeed, her son is due to arrive sometime within the next 24 hours to spend her 80th birthday with her. Heh heh.

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