Horoscopic

No phone calls right now. I'll just let the machine get it.

I'm zoning out in the living room, barely listening as the machine comes on. And then the tinny voice of...my mother? She's saying something about our family tree...

I jump up and answer the phone, claiming I was in the shower. Mom's excited about something, that's for sure. I get her to start from the beginning. She says Dad hired someone to trace our family lineage. And guess what they found? My great-great-grandmother, Bathsheba, she of the creepy photo, was related to Abraham Lincoln.

Now isn't that a strange way to end the day? Learning that you've got some Abe Lincoln in you? I suppose I now have a good line to deliver to single guys at parties. "You know, I'm descended from Abe Lincoln, sort of. I hear he had great virility...."

Lordy, I am just terrible. And this does not mean I believe in curses and horoscopes and all that nonsense! Not at all!

Well, maybe just a little.
End Of Story