It's Friday. I get back from campus late in the afternoon. The house is in shambles from this morning's breakfast/get ready/take a quiz efforts. I put some salmon in the oven and start neatly stacking the clean dishes in the cupboards when my phone rings. It's my loving mother.
Hello?
Hi. How are you? I haven't seen you in a while.
I'm good. What's up?
What are you doing?
Oh, right now I am just cooking and cleaning.
You're cooking and cleaning on a Friday night? Wow. Now that's what I call a low-life no-life. (emphasis on "no-life")
What is the purpose of you calling me?
To tell you that I lub you.
I know that she really does love me. And in some alternate universe she knows how to show me that love in an acceptable way. For now, I'll let her get away with this.
2 comments:
Ha ha! I love your blog. Especially I love that it was created for the sole purpose of sharing stories like these about your mother. Keep 'em comin'.
Also, my verification word is sudan. Like the country. I find it near impossible to not capitalize that.
I'm thinking of writing a book about her. She is such a character. She is also my mother and I love her.
But I'm still going to write a book.
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