Phone call

Mom means well, but she fails to appreciate that (1) I have access to groceries; (2) while my kitchen and fridge are not tiny, I don't care to fill either up with things I don't need; and (3) irony makes the situation slightly more tolerable (see title of this blog to register irony).

Mom: You like that port-wine cheese, right?
A.: Yes...
Mom: Oh, good. I bought you two pounds of it.
A.: What? Why? Mom, I don't need...
Mom: It keeps well, you'll get through it bit by bit.

Mom: What's that noise? Are you outside?
A.: Yes.
Mom, worried: Driving?
A.: No.

Mom: Are you going to bed now?
A.: No.

It was about 8:30pm.