Fell into That

Spent some time with Mom this past weekend and did a little clothes shopping and here's a quick post that will logically connect the two.

Really.

Trust me.

I haven't been smoking anything. At least not tonight.

Mom is wonderful in that she lavishes attention unselfishly and I am the center of that attention. She is horrible in that she knows I despise being the center of attention and that, having come to grips with being in my forties she forcibly returns me to permanent age 12 every time I walk in the door.

Hi, Mom.

How was your trip?

Uneventful.

Are you hungry?

No.

Want to eat something?

No.

I've got some leftover meatloaf.

No.

Aren't you hungry?

No.

That's pretty much it. I get asked a lot of questions that I duly respond to. Trouble is, I respond to them at least four times before the point sinks in.

Tired?

Not yet.

You should go to bed.

Not tired yet.

It's late. You look tired.

It is late, but appearances can be deceiving.

Tired?

(sigh)

You sighed. You sound tired.

Saturday, I hopped down to the local nationally advertised clothing store that I can still shop at with a modicum of self respect although their demographic target is something I am drifting away from like an aged Eskimo on an iceflow.

The store has a single syllable name that rhymes with "Crap".

So I pick up what I need, but I had to put her back. Apparently she only worked there and was not for sale.

Bought some pants instead. Went to pay for them and had this exchange with the cashier.

Are you signed up for a Crap card?

No.

Would you like to?

No.

It'll save you twenty percent.

No.

Sure you won't sign up for a crap card?

No. Are we related or should I be happy that Mom will always be able to find a job at the mall?

Bunny on.