The girls and I had just returned from the grocery store, laden with parcels that needed unpacking. Angela deftly took the quarts of half & half and buttermilk from my hands and said, “You’re pregnant. You shouldn’t be carrying these.”
“Actually, I’m not pregnant anymore…” I replied, following her down to the basement refrigerator with a packet of chicken breasts.
“Well, you’re bigger,” she concluded, “And can’t move fast.”
AMDG,
Leave a Reply