I haven’t been able to sleep lately, so when that happens I jump on my computer and write. I do not think, I just write…Well, maybe I do think because I could not write if I wasn’t thinking, I suppose. Hence, last night I started 'thinking' about how people say certain words that aren't part of the English language, over and over again, sometimes for years. For example, I spoke to an old friend the other day, who I haven’t spoken to in years, that used to say the word "majorly" all of the time.
Well, my brothers were typical teenage boys, hence, everyday after school, my brothers had demolished my cleaning job by the time my mother’s 1966 Ford Galaxy zoomed up our driveway-(our driveway was on a hill, well actually, our house was on a hill. That is why the driveway was…oh, you know what I mean-).
Anyway, we had better have our chores finished by the time we heard my mother’s white monster car soar up the driveway. (The car’s name was Charger)
I wish I could tell you more about “Charger,” (The Ford Galaxy) the Pear Apple tree, and our house on the hill, but I’m going to have to write about them in another post…because I’m trying to break the habit of bouncing from one topic to another-
O.K. now, where was I?
Oh yes, back to my unfair chores…According to my sluggish hormonial (not a word) teenage brain, kitchen duty should have landed on my brothers strong shoulders, not mine. Besides, it was obvious that my mother just wanted to torture me, because she could have had me dust the living room or take the garbage out, but no, she was adamantly against it.
Actually, I could not understand why it was illegal for teenagers to move into their own apartment.
Besides, grown-ups didn’t have a clue what teens were doing anyway.
Every time I asked her for a different chore, she would say; “Ann, that is the 17th time you have asked me the same question!” At which point I would say, well, just give me one good reason why we cannot at least change the chores for once, and I’ll quit asking.”
That is when she would get so mad; it changed the features in her face. My mother would morph into someone else. Have you ever noticed when you’re involved in a confrontation you senses heighten, and you notice details about the person you’re arguing with that you’ve never noticed before?
For instance, when the maintenance man at my apt. complex told me this week that I would have to pay for a new dishwasher, I noticed that his eyes were big, brown and round, they looked like they were too big for his face, like a baby puppies. Moreover, his hair had turned grayer since the last time I saw him, which was the day before.
In any event, the first time my senses heighten with my mother, it scared the daylights out of me, in fact, she still can scare me to death.
Well, after I opened my mouth (for the seventeenth time) about my chore duties, and I smelled the strong scent of Chanel #5 or Ciarra in the air, I took off for my room, but, as always she caught me; and the lecture was on it’s way.
After telling me why I wasn’t going to talk to her like that, she’d cock her head to the side, and look at me like she didn’t have a clue who I was, after which, she’d straighten her arm out, and point with her index finger like she had her finger on the trigger of a gun, and say; “Ann, go to your room, don’t say a word, just go to your room and do not come out for the next seventeen years!”