Unscrewed
Chapter One
I'd trade every last one of you for a moment's peace and a dog that don't pee on the carpet.
–Glen McMullen, arbitrating his progeny's latest dispute regarding favoritism
Don't worry about me. I'm only your mother," said my mother.
But I was unruffled. It was 7:17 on a fine spring Saturday, and I'd had a rejuvenating yet relaxing afternoon at home.
I smiled beatifically into the phone, found my fabulously placid center, and refused to be dragged into a McMullen skirmish, or Weirdsville World, as I like to call it. I was past all that now, a grown woman, my mother's equal.
"I'll call you tomorrow. I promise," I said. My tone was as smooth as a dove's dulcet coo.
Maybe it was the years of higher education that had finally allowed me to overcome my clinging blue-collar roots. Maybe it was the framed Ph.D. that hung in my office in Eagle Rock, where I counsel the poor unfortunates of the greater Los Angeles area . . . or maybe it was simply my innate classiness shining through. But regardless, I was serenely anticipating a quiet evening with a gentleman caller.
"Tomorrow!" ...
read full excerpt from Unscrewed ebook
