What is going on here?

About fifteen minutes after the conversation described in the previous entry, my mother called me back.

Mom: I wanted to tell you that I love you. They say that one needs to say that often. I mean, I want you to know that even though we disagree about things, I love you.
A.: I love you, too.


True, we disagree about things, but we didn't actually disagree about things in the earlier conversation. I mean, my parents thought I was unprepared to accept the truth in a life lesson, whereas in reality I was protesting the packaging of a life lesson in a cheesy e-mail, and by proxy, the volume of cheesy e-mails that come my way, as well as my mother's lack of response to my request to decrease that volume.

Apparently what we disagree about is what we were disagreeing about.

We said goodnight again. Then she called again ten minutes later to ask whether she could toss an old pair of sneakers she thought was mine. [Not that it matters, but I said I didn't think they were mine but if she wanted to make sure could she wait until I arrived in Boston. On the 6th. She said she could.]