The Units

My parents visited us over the weekend. I am still recovering. My mother is very peculiar. Everything is a reason to become panic stricken. My mother is stuck in 1957. I have no doubt that she loves me and my dad is the most loving, accepting, wonderful man on the planet. The first night my parents were here, my mom chose to spend our time together ranting and raving about what "crooks" all doctors are and that I needed to cease taking all my medications at once because the only person benefitting from me taking my medications was my doctor. The next night after I had gone (maybe I was sent) to my room, I had my door closed and was trying to fall asleep/escape, she knocked on my door the first time. She "needed" to tell me that I was out of cat food and OHMYGOD! what am I going to do? She even presented the empty box as evidence of my neglect. I assured her that I did in fact have more cat food and just because she was not holding it in her hand did not mean that it did not exist. This was a tough concept for her to grasp. "Good night, Mom." The second knock came a few minutes later with her knocking on my door and coming in so she could see what I "slept in. I told her that I, like her, slept in a bed." She meant, what did I wear to bed. How could that possibly concern her? The third time consisted of her coming in to tell me where she hid all her "mad money' so I would know "in case anything happened to her." I think she just didn't want to say good night and wanted to keep talking. The next morning as she was getting herself some breakfast, she felt compelled to hunt me down to tell me, frantically, that I was almost out of milk. I shared her hysteria and exclaimed that there was no more milk to be had and that I had foolishly traded our only cow for some magic beans. Actually I told her that there was another gallon in the back of the refridgerator and tried yet again to impart the wisdom that just because she didn't see it does not mean that it does not exist. I need to go have a lie down.