What could possibly go wrong?Īll in all, it’s shaping up to be a wonderful midlife crisis… I have wine, good friends, and an industrial-sized box of superglue. And then there’s the little conundrum that I’m becoming way too attached to my ghostly squatters… Like Cher, I’d like to turn back time. My BFF is thrilled with her new frozen face, thanks to her plastic surgeon, her alimony check, and the miracle of Botox. To add to the heap of trouble, there’s a new dangerously smokin’ hot lawyer at the firm who won’t stop giving me the eye. I think they need my help, but since I don’t speak dead, we’re having a few issues. Gluing body parts onto semi-transparent people has become a side job-deceased people I’m not even sure are actually there. Gram is in the nursing home, and dead people think my home is some kind of supernatural bed and breakfast. I’d honestly love to know who ’they’ are and rip them a new one. My grandma, who raised me, was still healthy, and life was pretty damned good.īut as they say, all good things come to an end. I had a body that worked without creaking. Whoever said life begins at forty must have been heavily medicated, drunk, or delusional.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |