Dehydrator?

Although I like my job, a lot, my Sundays are not generally characterized by a feeling of excitement about going to work on Monday. Until now.

It's not the commentary (about the weight, the house, etc.). It's the time spent dilly-dallying and shopping. I hate shopping. And yet, before we were allowed to go for a walk, we had to go to Best Buy.

Mom: This is walking. We're walking across the parking lot.

The way to the mall was fun, too.

Mom: Is your house like that one?
A.: No. Smaller.
Mom: All the bedrooms are upstairs?
A.: Yes.
Mom: That's too bad.
A.: Why?
Mom: Otherwise you could convert one to an addition to the kitchen.
A.: My kitchen is plenty big enough.
Mom: No, it's not. You need room for pots and pans, for the food processor, for the sealer, dehydrator...
A.: I don't have any of that stuff. I don't need it.
Mom: Well, I guess not, not as long as you're still single.

I'm not sure what that has to do with it, but I wasn't about to waste my breath letting mom know that my smallish kitchen and singlehood bothered her more than they bothered me. If she enjoys taking digs at my house, that's something I'm more than willing to let her have.