Friday evening

I was minding my own business, reading last Sunday's paper (idiots are making things difficult for planners in Virginia; a new book on political evil disappoints; there's a trade war over chicken feet.) Then mom came into the living room, sits down where dad had been sitting, and picks up a section of the newspaper.

Mom: What's this? What paper are you reading? Is that the Tab?
A.: No, it's the Washington Post.
Mom: Why is it here? Why do you have to make a mess.
A.: I left that article there for dad to read.
Mom: Why? Why dad and not me?
A.: Because you weren't sitting right there when I finished reading it. You can read it too.
Mom: What's it about?
A.: Why don't you look at it?
Mom: I should have bought that other pressure cooker.

[Pause]

Mom: Do you subscribe to that paper?
A.: Yes.
Mom: Why?
A.: Because I like to read the paper on paper.

[Pause]

Mom: [Reading from the paper out loud].
A.: Mom!
Mom: What? Why do you have to yell?
A.: Because I have to yell. Because I'm reading so read to yourself please!!
Mom: You have a fit at the slightest provocation!
A.: No, I raise my voice after a series of provocations. You then have a fit.
Mom: You're awful.
A.: Fine. I'm awful. I'm now going to read the paper in peace.
Mom: Why do you have to be like that?

I got up and left.