Mom: "Stop! Hold it right there!"
Mom: "Now, I know you are not that stupid. Why are you putting the broccoli on that shelf?"
Me: "So that I can see it."
Mom: "It goes in the vegetable crisper, dumbhead."
Me: "I do not put produce in the rotter."
Mom: "The what?"
Me: "The rotter. Those little shelf things that pull out. If I put produce in there, I can't see it, so I forget that it's there, and it gets all slimy and rotten."
Mom: "You pay for the produce, and you forget it's there?! What do you put in 'the rotter' then?"
Me: "Batteries and nail polish."
Mom: "You are not allowed to put groceries away anymore. Ever. Got it?"
Mom: "No! You throw stuff in the freezer so that when it opens, it all falls on my head! You won't use the crisper except for the wrong things! I've bought batteries three weeks in a row! I thought I was going crazy! And let's not even talk about the cabinets!"
Me: "What do I do wrong with the cabinets?"
Mom: "You know exactly what you do. You let things melt while you alphabetize the damn spices. Listen to me. You. Do. Not. Put. Groceries. Away. Anymore!"
Me: "I like the spices in alphabetical order."
Mom: "I do not care. The queen has spoken! And the queen will beat the sh!t out of you if you put the groceries away again!"
Me: "Mom, you are seventy-six years old. I think I can take you."
Mom: "I will ask Deno* to beat you up, and he will do it for me! And the cats will pee in your bed! The queen has spoken!"
Me: "Yes, Mom."
*my department chair; he is not a violent person, but it's probably not worth the risk