Bam! Bam! BAM!

Jeez. Can’t a woman take a shower in peace?

Not if she’s a mother.

“This better be important!” I hollered. “I’m talking blood! Or fire!”

The door pounding stopped and I resumed my shower.

As usual, I can never shower by myself. If it isn’t a knock at the door, it’s one of those noisy split-personality debates Hubby says I should never tell anybody about. (Read the rest of “Norman Bates Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, So Get Your Own Towels”)