Oscar calling.

“My voice… sounds… faaaaaaat.”

My sausage of a mother, after listening to the answering machine message that she had just recorded (which amounted to a sloppy recitation of, “Hi. I’m busy. Leave a message.”). And I’ll be damned if she wasn’t right.

This is the last in my mother trilogy. The demon has been exorcised. This house is clean.

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