Later Thursday morning

I had enough drama to relate earlier this morning that I didn't feel the need to mention the "what do you mean you don't eat dairy" conversations we've already had this morning.

Mom: What do you mean you don't eat dairy?
A.: You know I don't eat dairy. I've been here three times since I stopped eating dairy.

Mom decides that this is a great reason to sort through the fridge, citing the things I can't eat.

Mom: What does that mean? No cheese?
A.: No.
Mom: So, no feta?
A.: No.
Fridge: BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Mom: No brie??
A.: No.
Mom: Huh!
Fridge: BEEP BEEP BEEP!
A.: Mom, close the fridge!
Mom: No queso blanco?
A. Nope.
Fridge: BEEP BEEP BEEP!
A.: Mom!
Mom: What is your problem?

Mom continues to hold the fridge open and ponder all of the things that I won't eat. The fridge continues to beep.

That was earlier this morning. Just now, mom called me into the living room to listen to Dr. Oz.

Mom: He's talking about the best kind of olive oil!
A.: I already have an olive oil.

The TV is really loud.

A.: Mom, I can't take the noise. I'm leaving.
Mom: Listen to me... [mom talks]
A.: Mom, I can't hear you over the TV. It's you or him.

Mom mutes the TV.

Mom: I am 76 years old? Is that right? Yes, 76. All of my indicators came out excellent, and I eat whatever I want. I eat everything. I eat things I pick up off the floor. And all my indicators are excellent. I mean, except cholesterol. What I'm saying is, you're trying too hard.
A.: I'm not trying hard at all.
Mom: Sure you are.

That's when I left to go blog some more.