Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

of the table.

Greg took a slow, patronizing pause, shaking his head as if I were a stubborn child refusing to eat her peas. “We are only trying to protect you, Martha, but if you want to make this difficult, we will have to look at other options.”

I did not ask him what those options were. I stood up, my stiff ankles protesting the continue reading …