Friday, December 17, 2004
Well, I WAS Going to Leave a Little Early
Outing Myself . . . as a Snotty, Selfish, Reactionary Prick Jackass
Yesterday (and the day before), I talked to my mom about an appointment she’d made to have the doctor look at a “red spot” she’d found on her leg. She’d called to see if I could take her to the appointment. As I could see it was going to be a large chunk of my morning (when I’d be busy), and there was still enough time between then and the appointment, I asked if she could book a trip on Dial-A-Ride. Which she did. I told her if her return trip got screwed up, I’d take a long lunch and come take her back home.
I got to work this morning at about 7:30 (very early, as Mia’s sleeping patterns seem to be shifting some). So, I took it easy. Checking my e-mail, reading a few blogs. Slacking, basically. And at the exact moment when I decided to start working on something, the phone rings and it’s my mother (suddenly, I’m Travis Morrison!*). Mom had slept through her alarm (or the alarm hadn’t gone off . . . the jury’s still out on that one), and the Dial-A-Ride dispatcher had called to say that the driver had come to get her but couldn’t wait.
Mom: “I guess I should just call and cancel the appointment.”
Rage. It was all I could do to suppress a primal “FUUUUUUCCKKKK!” But I considered that if she didn’t go the appointment, she’d dwell on the “red spot” during her parents’ visit (arriving tomorrow). And I was a little concerned about the “red spot” because the last time she stubbed her toe, the fucking thing was almost ripped off her foot.
Selfish Prick: “I’ll come!”
“I’ll come?” Is that a threat? A promise? Both? For sure. After calculating the drive times (very accurately, as it turned out), I slacked off for a few minutes before leaving to pick her up. Being the snotty fuck I am, I listened to some emo (Knapsack) on the way to her house, and then switched to Marilyn Manson (Mechanical Animals).
The rest of the story is not so much interesting as it is a mimeographed narrative of every time my guilt-ridden** mother gets into the car with her sullen son and they ride along as she prattles on and on about their mutual shortcomings . . . blah, blah, blah, ad infinitum. I cooled down and just accepted that being an only child might mean I’m more prone to selfishness, but there are moments (like these) when I can’t be weak. Because that’s when I’m all she has. (Speaking of her having, I need to jot “new alarm clock” on her wish list.)
The moral of the story is: Be nice to your mom. Especially when she’s had a stroke and
In other news, Kat needs to renew her goddamn domain. Can someone pass that along?
And if you haven’t sent me something for the Best of (or Worst of) 2004, and approximately 6,164,882,087 of you haven’t, get on it. A Top 10 list (to be combined with the other I’ve gotten), your favorite Deadwood moment, the best hotel-heiress blowjob video you’ve seen . . . anything. I’m waiting.
Two posts in one day? There’s gonna be five or six really surprised readers out there! None happy, though.
* Preceding words directly (but unintentionally) lifted from “The Ice of Boston” by Dismemberment Plan.
** One time, my mom woke me up at 2 o’clock in the morning. She apologized before telling me that she had tightness and pain in her chest, and she was crying and panicking. You can probably imagine how confusing the subsequent 911 call was. And someone somewhere has a tape of that.
*** We were customers of cell-phone Company A, which sold their local business to Company B, which has now merged with Company C. I called Company B yesterday to find out when our two-year contract expired and they said it basically had expired during all the corporate re-shuffling. Company B said they were encouraging all their users to sign new contracts with Company C, which I did. Goodbye, exorbitant roaming charges! Hello, new flip phone! Hello, text-messaging capability!