When do I get my life back? It’s not as if I’m dead. I’m just surrounded by them. Well not dead people, the undead, and more to the point my undead mother.
I’m talking about life with the undead. Not zombies, although Mom can do a hilarious zombie imitation now. It’s full on B movie quality. She rolls her eyes up so they look stark white, she juts her chin out to the left allowing just the right amount of drool escape from her mouth, reaches her arms out and walks in her best Scooby Doo Zombie lurch you’ve ever seen. Truth be told, the dead are a lively bunch, even if they are technically dead, or undead. I haven’t figured out the politically correct term. Did I mention mom has let a few stray undead move in with us?