I’m working from my parents’ house this weekend—I’m on the clock from 9-5, then I’m free to visit with them. Which I love, but it’s a little weird working from here…my Mom seems to be regressing. Neither Mom nor Dad really grasps how the “working from home” thing works, so that doesn’t help. Anyway, I’m constantly peppered with questions – Did your boss call yet? Are you busy? Can I fix you a hot breakfast? Do you need a nap? You’d think I was procrastinating on my Algebra homework rather than performing my job!
I went to the coffee shop yesterday morning for a change of scenery. When I got home, my Mom asked if I had eaten. I said yes, but of course she wanted more details…what did I eat? “Oatmeal,” I responded. Her response? “Well, you could have had that at home!” By my mother’s reasoning, one could never eat out unless it was something truly bizarre that would never, ever be found in one’s own kitchen.
After this conversation, my Mom told me that she had done my laundry. I had packed for the whole week! I didn’t need her to do my laundry; she just went into my room and grabbed the pile off of the floor. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I was careful with your blouses.”
Yeah, those “blouses”? $8 t-shirts from Target. But I won’t tell her that (she’d probably think I spent too much, anyway).
I love you, Mommy. (But if you could refrain from running the vacuum during my conference calls, I'd appreciate it.)
