One evening last week I was sitting at our family desk trying to figure out why Firefox had rendered my Mac hopelessly inept. Nothing seemed to be working as it should. I opened help windows, Googled the equivalent of “what the %@!” and lamented out loud that the whole reason I buy Macs is so I don’t have to deal with stupid things like this. I was more than a little frustrated when I heard Lucille calling for me from the bathroom.
“Mama?” she said.
“Wait just a minute,” I said.
A few minutes passed. “Mama?” she said again.
“In a minute!” I said.
Eliza, having gotten tired, I think, of her sister’s pleading and my roundly putting her off, opened the bathroom door to see what was going on.
“Mom! Lucille trimmed her hair!” Eliza said.