Monday, September 27, 2010

Phone call

I wrote a week or two ago that mom often calls at the worst possible moments. While it wouldn't be fair to hold that against her, the fact that she does it is still a reality. Don't get between a woman on her fourth round of poison ivy and her zertec. I had it in one hand when the phone rang, had just broken through the child-proof packaging when it rang the fourth time. I was about to pour myself a glass of water but I thought I'd better answer.

Mom: Why didn't you return my call?
A.: I didn't know you'd called.
Mom: Yesterday.
A.: I didn't get the message.
Mom: I didn't leave a message. But I called. How are things?
A.: Fine. How are you?
Mom: Better. The doctor figured out why I was so tired--it was that same infection.
A.: You're on antibiotics now?
Mom: Eye drops.
A.: I'm glad you're feeling better. How's dad? How's dad's car?

I think I was too tired to blog about this after it happened, but I happened to call my parents the day my dad was in a car accident. The front of his car was sideswiped by a truck coming down a hill, not far from his office. I should have blogged it at the time, because I no longer remember in excruciating detail, but I do remember that my mother proceeded to provide a lot of irrelevant information when I was pretty much interested in whether or not dad was okay and whether they were good with dealing with the insurance, the other driver's insurance, etc. It's almost funny--when I tell a story, I get flustered, because mom interrupts to ask for details that are completely irrelevant; when she tells a story, she gets flustered because I interrupt to ask her to spare me the completely irrelevant details.

Mom: It's in the shop. The appraiser should come look at it any day now.
A.: You've been in contact with the other driver's insurance?
Mom: It's funny--Thursday, or maybe Friday, or maybe Thursday... actually, I think it was Friday, or...
A.: Mom, it doesn't matter...
Mom: It does matter! Don't interrupt! I'm not going to talk to you if you keep interrupting.
A., unwrapped Zertec pill in hand: Could. you. just. tell. me. who. called?
Mom: The truck company's lawyer called, acknowledged it was their fault.
A.: Well, that's good.
Mom: I told him it's a wonder it doesn't happen more often, that road being what it is.

Mom always talks too much. By which I'm not talking about volume; I'm talking about providing superfluous information that may or may not be used against her. She does it when she writes complaint letters (read: when she demands that I write complaint letters); she does it when she's trying to ward off an aggressive sales pitch; and she does it in various negotiations and other interactions where less is more. The best response to an aggressive sales pitch is, "no, I'm not interested," not, "no, see, I already have one in a different color." But I digress.

Mom: Anyway, I told our insurance company.
A.: Good, let them deal with it.

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