Morons! Morons!

We agreed that we would leave for the airport at 4:50am for a 6am flight. Earlier in the hour, I woke up, went downstairs, and had a light breakfast. I didn't time it, but I do not think I was downstairs for more than five minutes, so I was surprised when, crossing paths with Mom on my way back upstairs, the following exchange occurred:

Mom: What were you doing down here for so long? Were you on the computer?
A.: No...
Mom: Were you exercising?
A.: No, I just had a light breakfast.
Mom: Why aren't you dressed?
A.: That would be my next step.

Mom's now trying to micromanage my morning routine? I don't have the motor skills in the morning, morning person though I may be, to get dressed before breakfast. Food, and then toothpaste, often ends up on my clothing. I suppose I could have skipped breakfast but I figured I would leave my parents with one fewer pear, since they had complained about them and asked me to take them with me.

In the car on the way to the airport, mom stopped at a red light, but just barely. She was itching to turn left on red.

A.: We have time. We are not late.
Mom: You never know. Oh, these morons! Why not have a blinker at this hour...
A.: We're not late.
Mom: Morons! Morons!

Pause

Mom: All government, they're all morons!