MY MOTHER SAID:
Wait ‘til your father gets home.
I combed out the cat; he’s horking up hairballs behind the chesterfield.
If you keep making that face, it’ll stay that way.
Don't use that tone with me, young lady.
I wish he wouldn't call me “the wife”.
If you don’t sit up straight, I’ll put sticky tape between your shoulder blades.
I don't know where the time has gone.
Who parked that wad of gum under the counter? Who?
Really. I wonder why I bother.
Your dad’s having a lie-down.
A nice steam pudding, dear, with brown sugar sauce,
don't you think?
I know now, he lacked self-esteem.
But you see, we didn’t have self-esteem
in those days.
Love love love those little quail scuttling across the garden.
Don't let the cat out.