Being A Wet Blanket About It

, , , , , | Related | January 18, 2018

(My mom keeps a towel on the floor next to the porch door, so she can dry her feet when she comes in. My favorite chair is a few feet from the door, and I used to drape my hair over the back to let it dry after a shower and pull the towel over behind the chair so I didn’t drip on the floor. I stopped when Mom pointed out that I had been forgetting to move the towel back. But she insisted that I was still doing it, because she kept finding the towel in the wrong place. Then, this happens:)

Mom: “[My Name]! What the h*** is this towel doing here?”

Me: “I don’t know. I didn’t put it there.”

Mom: “Yes, you did! I’ve told you not to move it, because you never put it back!”

Me: “It’s crumpled up into a ball; why would I do that if I wanted to catch water? It was probably the cat.”

Mom: “You’re just trying to get out of trouble.”

(At this point I remember something fairly important.)

Me: “We spent the last four days in [Other City] on vacation, and I didn’t have time to shower yesterday after we got home because you insisted that, even though I was on vacation, I still had to write an essay for your friend who can’t be bothered to do her own work. I haven’t had wet hair in this house in nearly a week.”

Mom: *pause* “Maybe it was the cat.”

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