No Place Like Home
Page 20
I kind of got carried away on some of the "upgrades" to the new house, and stashed a lot of the more terrifying bills in my bedroom drawer, under my adorable maternity underwear. (Hank has this obsession about maintaining a budget and paying bills right on time.) Anyway, I figure I can use being pregnant as a defense and hold off retribution for a while, and maybe breast-feeding will postpone the inevitable a little longer. Unless I want to get knocked up again fast, though, I probably won’t be sitting down for a very, very long time on the new hardwood dining chairs that came this afternoon. (While Hank was at work, thank God!)
Meanwhile, I'm really hoping that Miramax can get Angie Jolie “on board.” (That's Hollywood insider talk, by the way.) That’ll guarantee the box office take and pay a few of these damned bills! Besides, she's perfect for the role, and a dead ringer for me, says Hank. Would a highly decorated police officer lie?
THE END