My mother is adorable. ADORABLE. We've always been close - she tends to run interference between my stubborn self and my stubborn father - and I love her. She knows me very well. And she always has hysterical ways to point out my not-so wonderful qualities.
Me: So I was awoken this morning by my super colleague, Mr. C., when my phone went off at 8:20 in the morning. On a Sunday.
Mom: What did he want?
Me: He was having mild panic attacks about school tomorrow.
Mom: So what did you do?
Me: I told him it was to early to have a panic attack. Then I told him that if he wanted to plan, we'd have to do it at a coffee shop because my roommate (and every other normal person on a Sunday morning) was still asleep.
Mom: I don't understand. You don't even teach the same thing.
Me: I know. I just sit there and do my own work, and make interjections sometimes, like, "Don't forget to practice for a fire drill." And his head goes back down and types some more.
Mom: (laughing) I cannot believe this. I refuse to think you're a calming influence.
Me: Why? I can be calming.
Mom: (still laughing) Tell me one instance in your entire life that you were calm. Or a calming influence.
Me: That is not fair. I can be calming.
Mom: I'm waiting....
Me: Uhh...
Mom: Right. None. You have none.
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