Mommy Dearest

Only one and a half walls left to paint. I'm taking a little break.

So, living with my parents has its perks. For one thing, there is a laundry room a scant ten steps from my bedroom door. Second, the kitchen/pantry/bar is always really well stocked - at least in comparison to the pitifully meager kitchen I maintained while I was living in an apartment. Chocolate cigars, anyone? Cheese blintzes? Kimchee? Olives? Russian sausage? Ice cream? Ramen noodles - the good kind? Rum and coke? Gin and tonic? Then there's my grandmother, who immigrated to America from Korea while I was living away and moved into my room (so I've taken over my brother's old room). Occasionally, she likes to look around furtively and then quickly press a fifty dollar bill into my palm. I used to protest but then I stopped. It makes her happy and she never really leaves the house except to go on walks so I guess she doesn't really need it. I just wonder where she gets the money from!

Then there's my mom. She's always good for a laugh. Like the other day, she saw me closing the fridge door with my foot while I poured myself some juice. My mom is really proper and would never slam close a fridge door with her foot or her hip. She thinks all doors need to be quietly and gently closed. She told me if she caught me doing that again she would spank me. My mother is about six inches shorter than me and really tiny. I howled.

Yesterday when the cable guys came in to install my cable modem (woohooo! hi-speed internet! wireless!) she came home in the middle of it and nearly had a fit because I had let three brawny men into the house wearing their shoes. She shot me a really nasty glance and then gave the men a really stern look and commanded them to remove their shoes. You should have seen these guys. They all looked down at the floor, hunched their shoulders, and shuffled off their Timberlands, muttering apologies with reddened faces. HAW HAW!