Phone call

Have I mentioned that my mother (1) often calls at the worst possible time on a Sunday; and (2) exacerbates the bad timing by adding unnecessary layers to the conversation. Lest it sound like I'm being unfair, she knows that it's a bad time to call. She knows that Sunday night is when I'm getting stuff done. And the unnecessary layers are really f*ing unnecessary.

So tonight, she called a few minutes ago, while I was folding my laundry and watching the last episode of the last season of Mad Men. We'd spoken earlier this afternoon--they called while I was waiting for a train, but we only talked for a few minutes because the train came. They wanted to talk more later about the show I'd gone to see--a one-man show about said man's stint in 1989 Poland. Even the moment I mentioned it during the first call, mom came out with her standard response to any mention of the country: "Poles are anti-Semites." The actor-playwright saw that one coming, talked turning the show about how American Jews love to dismiss Poles as anti-Semites. But the show broached the issue with much more nuance. But I digress.

Mom: So, what was it you saw?
A.: It was a one-man show--one actor playing seven parts--
Mom: Huh? [Corrected the way I said parts, and not concisely.]
A.: Got it, mom.
Mom: No! This is important.
A.: I don't have time for this, mom.
Mom: Fine, go on. Why was he playing different parts?
A.: He was describing his time there from various perspectives.
Mom: Perspectives? What perspectives?
A.: For example, an elder in the Jewish community in Warsaw.
Mom: [Corrects the way I said elder.]
A.: Okay, elder.
Mom: Poles are anti-Semites, you know.
A.: Well, he was delving into the nuances of that.
Mom: They're anti-Semites. Long tradition of anti-Semitism.
A.: Yes, I know. But it's also complicated.
Mom: Whatever.
A.: Okay. Goodnight.
Mom: Goodnight.