Chapter 34

• I start dinner to busy my mind. In a lame attempt to cut out some carbs, I decided to make spaghetti squash, which has only about seven carbs compared to the whopping forty in pasta noodles. Supposedly, spaghetti squash looks very similar to angel hair pasta when grated. Well, that turns out to be a crock of shit. They look nothing like it, and drenching it in red sauce won’t fool my snotty little detectives.
• Ava calls out from upstairs, “Mom, the doorbell’s ringing.”
• The groan from me rivals that of a wild bear. “Well, answer it, honey.” “I’m doing . . .”