It's a wonder I can tie my own shoes

The wedding was beautiful and reception a lot of fun. I actually enjoy watching other people dance, even when I'm not willing to do so myself-- there's something to the synchronicity of a dance floor. Anyway, I got to my car (well, my dad's car) around a quarter to midnight, and found on my phone a message from my mother, asking whether I was planning on returning home. I don't want to give you the impression that I don't appreciate her concern, but I do want to emphasize how much I value not having to tell anyone when I'm coming home. Even if everything else that made living with my mom difficult wasn't there, one huge reason that I wouldn't want to do it is that I can't deal with someone expecting me all the time.

My initial plan was just to get a hotel room out in Worcester, where the wedding was, but my mom talked me out of it. She even tried to talk me into letting her drop me off and pick me up (it's almost an hour's drive each way), but that's where I drew the line. Then she offered to drive with me so I could follow her, so I wouldn't get lost. Then she said, "you know, dear, they've been stepping up their patrols, looking for people who have been out partying." I had to actually verbalize the fact that I had no intention of driving under the influence.

Lest you think mom was content to just let me drive to the wedding without providing any more help, think again. She wouldn't let it be that I wasn't willing to take confusing backroads to get to the highway, which would shave two minutes from the trip, so she insisted on at least escorting me to the highway along those backroads. She was going to a lake anyway so it was on her way. Except she was dilly-dallying, which she does. And after five minutes of waiting, I said, "that's it, I'm leaving." For five more minutes, we went through "no, we're coming," and "well, it'll take you longer." Finally we all made it outside, but ever the dilly-dallyer, I was at the car for a few minutes before she and dad got to the other one. Eventually we left, and I followed them.

Shortly before the highway (and back on road I knew well, i.e. from which I knew the way), my dad decides to pull a Chinese fire drill. At a light, he gets out of the car my mom's driving, and comes up to mine. I roll down the window, but that's not good enough: he wants me to unlock the door so he can get in. I do so. He tells me that they need to get gas and I should keep going. I ask him how I'm going to let him out, since we've started moving again. I don't ask why he couldn't have told me this through the window. Eventually we stop at another light, and he manages to get back into the other car.

***

Earlier, I was getting ready and asked mom if she had a sweater or shawl I could borrow. I'd known what sweater I'd planned on bringing, but I'd lent it to someone at a birthday dinner for a mutual friend, and it was returned to me with curry-like stains. Anyway, I asked her for something white or grey, possibly black.

Mom: What color is your dress again?
A.: A dark pink.
Mom: How about this? [Holding up a lilac shawl].
A.: That doesn't go with my dress. Anything white or grey?
Mom: Sure it does! Lilac goes with everything. It certainly goes with pink.

I did not say, "yeah, when you're five years old." Several more times, after I'd decided on a white shawl, she asked me why I didn't want to take the lilac.

***

An earlier, unrelated conversation:

A.: Kevin says Gracie's been an angel and very friendly. She even slept up on his window sill, which she usually only does when Chloe (Kevin's daughter, who visits every other weekend) is there. Gracie loves Chloe.
Mom: Maybe you could give her to her?
A.: Why do you hate my cat?
Mom: [shrug].