When humor goes, there goes civilization.

I was too old for a paper route, too young for Social Security and too tired for an affair.

Housework can kill you if done right.

I have seen my kid struggle into the kitchen in the morning with outfits that need only one accessory: an empty gin bottle.

Getting out of the hospital is a lot like resigning from a book club. You're not out of it until the computer says you're out of it.

My mother phones daily to ask, "Did you just try to reach me?" When I reply no, she adds, "So, if you're not too busy, call me while I'm still alive," . . . and hangs up.

When you're an orthodox worrier, some days are worse than others.