“Psst, Lady!”

The woman behind me in the Costco checkout line looked up. “Yeah?”

“Maybe you should get out of this line. You know, pick another one.”

She looked confused. “Hunh?”

“I said, ‘pick another line.’ You’ll be sorry if you stay in this one. Everyone always is.” (Read the rest of “I Was Cursed by the Wholesale Club”)

“That repair truck has been parked outside your house every week since you moved in,” said my neighbor Mona.

She leaned closer, smiling wickedly.

“Are you having an affair with the G.E. repairman?” (Read the rest of “The PROBLEM Is…”)

Sophie and I pet-sit each other’s animals.  Not only do we save ourselves money on kennel fees, we also maintain a sacred vow: if either of us should die while on vacation, the other will hire a cleaning team, hose down the house and fold the laundry before grieving relatives claim their inheritance.

You can’t pay a kennel for that kind of service. (Read the rest of “Catwoman”)