The lock snicked as I bent over to retrieve the broken bag of flour that had fallen through the wet paper bag. A tug against my waist and I knew the day had gone from bad to ludicrous. My skirt, now wedged tightly between the locked car door held me captive. Turning I could see my keys, still dangling from the ignition. Leaving the flour on the parking garage floor, I took off my skirt and donned the broken paper bag. Mrs. Whipson had my spare key so I braved the walk to her apartment. She wasn’t home… Mondays suck.
Join Becca and I this weekend in Hershey, PA for #booksigning
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