About that dehydrator...

By that dehydrator, I mean this dehydrator: one of the many small appliances to have traveled the busy northeast corridor in search of its rightful home.

Mom had mentioned it over the phone a week or so ago, told me to make sure to bring it. But then dad reminded her that she still had two, plus most of the disks from the one that she gave me. By gave, she means "like an idiot, agreed to give." This year it was okay to do with out; the mushroom harvest was modest. But in a year of abundant mushrooms, she's gonna need all the dehydrator space she could get. Nonetheless, I came away from that phone call with the impression that mom agreed I should keep the third dehydrator. I also forgot about it.

But she brought it up the minute I got here (yes, this is still preferable to bringing up my huge ass the minute I get here). She got very agitated, fast.

Mom: Like an idiot, I said you could have them. When Jay was here.
A.: Them? I only have one.
Mom: No! You have two!
A.: I really don't. I have one, with missing disks.
Mom: You have two!
A.: I don't have that much space, mom. I'd know if I had two dehydrators.
Mom: Well, I know what I gave him. Like an idiot! What was I thinking?
A.: You were thinking you already had enough dehydrators and that you could spare one.

Later

Mom: I can't believe you didn't bring back the dehydrator. What am I going to do when there are mushrooms?
Dad: You have two dehydrators, with fifteen disks.
Mom: I do not! He took two of them.
A.: One. He took one, and you took out most of the disks.
Mom: I only have one left.
Dad: You have two.
Mom: I do not!
Dad: Do you want me to find them and bring them up?
Mom: Yes. I'll believe it when I see it.
A.: Okay. But I'm telling you that I only have one.
Mom: Then Jay must have taken one.
Dad: I'm sure he locked it up in a safe deposit box immediately.

At which point we all burst out laughing. Dehydrator tension defused, for now.