Don't let the door hit you on the way out

Mom leaves me a message: Hi. You know, you could call once in a while. Bye.
I return the call.
Mom: Why haven't you called in so long?
A.: I called on Tuesday.
Mom: And?
A.: And?
Mom: Where were you?
A.: The gym.
Mom: Are you still there now?
A.: No, I'm almost home.
Mom: Have you already changed jobs?
A.: No. In a week.
Mom: Have you given notice?
A.: Yes.
Mom: What was the reaction?
A.: Most people are happy... [the next two words would have been "for me"]
Mom, laughs: Right. They're happy you're leaving so you won't be around to tell them what to do and how to live their lives.

Now, I won't deny that there are some people who can't wait to see me go. One of them asks me whether it's my last day every time she sees me. She also tells pregnant ladies that they look like whales, though, so she is hardly representative.

Mom: Are you at the gym now?
A.: No. I told you a few minutes ago that I'm almost home.
Mom: Okay, well, keep us posted. Call once in a while.


***
I remembered something I'd wanted to blog about in the last post. Have you ever woken up in the middle of a dream, so that it's still vivid, and thought, "I'm stressed out about that? That's on my mind?"

I've twice woken up in the middle of dreamt-up fights with my mother. In one in particular, we're in a car together and she accuses me of something completely absurd and it escalates.

So I guess even when I think I'm managing it, it has an effect on my subconscious.