I’m back at the Space Station today. Let’s see:
- Desk moved? Check!
- Computer used? Check!
- Monitor resolution changed? Check!
- Desk items tinkered with? Actually, all my crap seems fine
- 0 new email messages after having been gone for a week? Check! (this was an error with the auto responder – it’s all fine now, but I immediately jumped to the conclusion that my email had been forwarded to someone else .. I’m not paranoid, or anything)
- Laptop peripherals unplugged, removed, and inserted into orifices that aren’t mine? Oh god, probably
- Email from people who knew very well that I was away for a week demanding to know why I hadn’t done something they requested after I had left? Check!
- Two people on opposite ends of the office having a conversation via speaker phone? Check!
Oh, it’s so good to be back.
My mom is almost all moved. Very few things are left at the house, and what’s there can be taken over in a car load or two. Ed and I spent a couple days setting up her new place, and it’s looking much better than it did. Her new bed was delivered and set up and is very comfortable – hopefully it’ll help her back, because her current 30+ year old mattress just isn’t cutting it.
It was an aggravating trip. I did learn something very important and enlightening, though: I annoy my mother almost half as much as she annoys me.
This was a huge breakthrough for me. My mom thinks I’m a pain in the ass! This is .. good. It restores a sense of rightness in the universe, somehow. We’re not close, my mom and I, and it would weird me out to have a relationship with her that was anything other than forced civility due to shared DNA.
As hard as I try to behave otherwise, being around my mother instantly turns me back into a petulant 16 year old. My curt, one-word contributions to the conversation and incredulous responses to her bizarre requests – I can’t believe you don’t have a hammer! Why would I have a hammer? For the move! – do an excellent job of masking the person I’ve become with the person I was a million years ago. I’m sure the random people my mom introduced me to last week think I’m mentally deficient in some way – well, she LOOKS like an adult, but why is she acting like such a brat? I can’t help it. I try to smile and engage in polite, disinterested conversation like I’ve heard other grownups doing – but I can’t do it. I can get as far as a smile and a hello before my eyes glaze over and I start thinking about video games or boobs or robots again. This is not normal. My mother makes me regress in frightening ways.
I did feel an excellent burst of satisfaction, though, when mom asked Ed if HE had a hammer – his response of “Why would I have a hammer?” was delivered in the EXACT SAME TONE mine was only 5 minutes earlier. Ed was outside with the car when she started in on the hammer that most people apparently carry around with them when moving, so he didn’t hear the conversation at all. Vindication! I’m not insane for not having a pocket hammer! My mom is nuts!
So, when do I get a vacation to recover from my “vacation”?