Friday, March 21, 2003

Begin rant ... now.

My mother is about to drive me out of my mind. She is out of cereal and apparently that is cause for national concern. She has called 6 times already, �I thought you were coming up?�

�Ma, I will get there, keep your shirt on.�

�No rush, dear�
(ya right!)

I realize she doesn�t get out much but Jesus H. Christ, give me a break and let go of the cereal obsession. If you don�t get it today you will not explode.

I love my mother, but I really don�t feel like going there every fucking day of my life. Why am I the only one she calls? She had six children, I�m sure of it, I have seen pictures.

Ok, call number 7 of the day. Before she gets a chance to harp about the f-ing cereal��Ma, I just got in the door. I had to take The Boy to the outdoor (emergency room to you Yanks out there), can you wait till tomorrow for the cereal?�

�Yes, dear, that�s fine. But I was actually calling to ask you to bring milk since I won�t have money to put out for the milk man in the morning�

This is another thing that baffles me. She makes me go up there every day but I am not allowed to bring milk, since the milkman brings it.

�Ma, you don�t need home delivery, I can pick up milk for you. This is not the North Pole, we have stores on every corner here.�

She somehow thinks that since she is living in a retirement community that she is paying for this service so she must take advantage of it.

�Ma, they deliver fish on my street, but you don�t see me out on the doorstep haggling for mackerel.�

I try to tell her that the milkman delivers all over town, not just to old people, and that the home delivered milk actually costs more. And to make matters worse, she has to get up at 5:30am to catch the milk man. She has a sign that she puts in the window but she won�t put the money outside in case it gets stolen.

�Mother of God!. I don�t think burglars will come way the hell out here on the off chance you have left $4 in a jar outside your door.� I am, of course, wasting my breath.

And the f-ing milkman never has the kind of milk she wants anyway. You can not reason with old people.

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