Lizzy, the lord of playground insults
Greetings from the Ridge.
Husband Herb came home yesterday afternoon, slammed the front door and plopped into his chair with a pronounced pout. Since it was obvious he was waiting for me to ask what was bothering him I said, “Herb, what’s bothering you?”
“Nothin’.” ...This is how our conversations often begin.
“Your bottom lip is sticking out so far it could hold a three-inch rain. What’s the problem, sweetheart?”