A Fun Weekend Night

My father enters the kitchen, where I am unsuccessfully making a 65th attempt at Level 3 of a game on my computer that a five-year-old could doubtless defeat in 20 minutes. He opens the freezer and, as happens one out every three time someone does so, a solidly frozen item shoots out onto his feet.

“G*d f^&k her in the heart! (he refers to my mother)

She freezes f$%king bread. With springs under it. Like f&*king jack in the boxes.

Everything that costs four cents, she freezes.

Things that other people just toss, as far away as they can, from the house, she freezes!

I can’t f#$king stand it.”

Long pause.

"I hear all this s&*t about mommy all her life about how honest she is. I have never heard of anyone who lies more ... she says this architect comes over and says 'oh, she said all the things that I had thought of.' This is the woman who can only get a pile of dishcloths to the counter. She is befuddled by where they could go next."

Shorter pause. He opens the freezer again. More things fall out.

"G&d. How much of my f%*%^ing life is ruined, gone, irreparably lost because of the stuff she does."

Even shorter pause.

"Tomorrow, I'll explain to her the concept of cleaning the counter. Then next month, I will have her try it."