Tuesday, April 14, 2009
i want my mummy!
listening to an adult woman wax histrionic about how her mother is the prototype human vending machine, dispensing travel sized packets of guilt and criticism, is about as compelling as her equally toxic relationship with cramps and chocolate. ragging on your mum is soooo last season; maternal blame is no longer the new black.
and so mine came to visit for three weeks- try telling that to aforementioned adult woman and prepare to dodge the anecdotal barrage of 'ended in tears' shopping trips, 'silent treatment' holidays, and 'another year of disappointment' birthdays, all marinating in a balsamic reduction of adolescent resentment-- it should be noted that efforts to out-exaggerate girlfriends on who has the most dysfunctional relationship can earn additional points.
we shared a car wreck (not my fault), take-out lobster (twice), copious amounts of alcohol (to numb the consecutive fibre glass wounds from cleaning the attic/deluge in the basement), puppy self-defense techniques, navigating the downtown area with "bostonians are worse than saudi drivers and hoosiers", anesthesia and extracted molars, and a futile power struggle for the remote to watch/avoid 'dancing on ice with your starry idol'.
after years of practice making a building feel like home, once again she has left a ripple. that, a freshly shop vacced basement, and an origami installation of bath towels to bring an entire army of housekeepers to their knees.