Recent conversation with my mother:
"Your father called me a few days ago to tell me to call you," she began. "Apparently you told him your life was falling apart . . ."
"It was, actually," I replied, the pain apparent in my voice. "I was having a perfectly wretched week and I tried calling you but you weren't home and you weren't answering your cell so I had to call Dad instead." (big, heavy, pathetic, martyr-like sigh)
She responded, woundedly, "Well, I tried calling back but you didn't answer and you didn't respond to my message." (bigger, heavier, patheticker, more martyr-like sigh)
Heaven and earth, I love that woman.
3 comments:
I think we have way too many things in common. (Except potatoes. I hate potatoes.)
I wish I didn't have crazy parents.
Maybe your family should see a doctor about your genetic sighing problem.
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