My poor mother. She has put up with a lot of crazy from me in the last week in the form of very teary-eyed phone calls. Let’s start with the most ridiculous story first, shall we?
Last Friday, I wasn’t feeling well. For me to admit that I don’t feel well, takes a lot. I never get sick and will deny that I am sick for an illogical amount of time before I must concede defeat and take a pill or drink some nasty syrup. But last Friday, I gave in quickly. I left work early, came home and literally fell on the couch. I had a headache that made opening my eyes hurt. My body was beyond fatigued, but I hadn’t seen the gym in… it doesn’t matter how long I went without going to the gym, the point is that I was tired when I shouldn’t have been. These two symptoms alone are extremely out of the ordinary for me. So I did what seemed most appropriate. I called my mommy.
“Mom,” I said as my voice cracked and my chin quivered. “I don’t feel good. My head hurts so bad. The light is making it worse too. I would close the blinds but I can’t get off the couch. I think something is very wrong. I’m scared… I think…” *sniff, sniff, sob, “I mean, could I be depressed? I have all the symptoms according to the commercial!”
*heavy sigh* “Mere… we have this conversation every August. You are not depressed. The only thing that is wrong with you is that you have allergies. You always get allergies this time of year and they always make you feel this way.”
“Oh yeah! That’s right! Oh thank God. Thanks Momma.”
She undoubtedly thought I was psycho after that conversation. But I decided to give her more evidence during last night’s conversation, just to really drive home how crazy I can be.
After having looked at townhouses the day before and consulting with my dad about something called an “amortization calculator,” it became abundantly clear that buying a home is probably not a feasible option for me right now. My dad put me on the phone with my mom. “So,” she started, “what’s the consensus?”
“Well, clearly I need to marry a doctor,” I said dryly. Then the floodgates opened and my little ‘ol tear ducts just couldn’t contain the flow. *gasp* “I mean, how in the world could anyone afford a home…ever?! Adulthood is so expensive! *sniff, sob, sob* “And I want to save, but I really need a new pair of brown pumps! I need to look nice for work and that’s expensive too!” *sob, sniff, sniff*
“Mere,” she said in an incredible calm manner. “You could have them polished at a shoe store.
“They’re… *sob*… They’re… *sniff*… SUEDE!
“Ok hon. It’s late, maybe you should just go to bed,” she recommended.
To bed I went. And when I called her the next morning, I apologized for being totally insane.