...You are my sunshine, my only sunshine/ You make me happy when skies are gray....
Head cocked to one side, assessing: "I don't think purple underwear suits you."
Hmf. The man who bought it for me seemed to like it.
I finger a wool coat of which I have no real need: "You don't have to buy it just because it's Mimi-pink."
That's true. Also, I switched to leather because wool coats are such pet-hair magnets.
I grumble that when I asked a friend how he liked the show, he mentions technical difficulties of filming it rather than commenting on my performance.
"People aren't vending machines, Mom. You can't push a button and get what you want."
The kettle whistles: "Mama! I'm going to tea you!" Then suddenly he shouts,
(You Are My Sunshine; Ray Charles)