Mom, as has already been noted on this blog, does not trust my ability to clean up. Anything. Anywhere. Ever.
She gave me the following instructions tonight:
"Listen. Are you listening? You are not listening! You are reading a book with zombies! [This was true.] Listen to your mother! Tonight you will unload the dishwasher. Don't say 'okay' like that; listen to your mother. You will unload the dishwasher, then you will put the dirty dishes in the sink into the dishwasher. You will close the dishwasher. You will rinse the sink. And you will put that bowl back into the refrigerator. Got it?"
Then I tried to object: "Mom. You do understand that this is my house..."
She was not buying it: "I do not want to hear that! I am too tired to deal with you. I have floating things in my eyes, remember? Clean up the kitchen!" [pause] "And if you leave that fork in that bowl when you put it in the refrigerator, I will come into your room and stab you with it."
Then I became curious: "Why is it okay to put the bowl in the refrigerator, but not the fork?"
This made Mom exasperated: "You are an idiot!"
Then I became annoying: "Maybe I prefer my flatware chilled. Did you ever think of that?"
Mom does not put up with such nonsense: "Maybe you prefer being stabbed in the middle of the night. Did you ever think of that?"
Then I was, at last, silent.