“What day is today?” my mother just called and asked.
I love these calls. It always makes me chuckle. Mom isn’t about to ask dad what day it is because he will think she is taking too much of her Xanax.
“Well,” I replied. “I am not exactly sure. We are not doing so well, are we?”
With me not working, all my days seem to run together as well.
“Your father was off yesterday so it must be Thursday,” mom told me.
“Is that a good thing?” I asked.
“Yes,” mom said with a sigh of relief. “I have nothing to do today, but lie in the bed. I am going to rest all day.”
“Did you sleep well?” mom then asked.
“Mom, I am having the most vivid using dreams,” I replied. “I dreamed y’all were chasing me trying to get my beer away from me.”
“We’ve actually had to do that before in real life, ya know?”
I burst out laughing. Yes, I’ve had the beer police after me a few times in life. My parents are doggedly determined for me not to go back to life of alcoholism I lived for years.
“Who’s that?” I asked as I could hear someone else talking in the room.
Mom let out a loud sigh.
“Helen wants to change my sheets.”
“I’ll let you go,” I said with a smile.
It must be a hard life if your Thursday of rest is interrupted by your maid wanting to wash and change your sheets. You would think the Pope asked mom to say twenty hail Mary’s the way mom blew into the phone. I love my mother. We are a lot alike.