My parents

On the coffee table next to me, there's a packet of hot sauce from 2003 and a package of sugar from god knows when. Over lunch, I asked what happened to all the decorative plates that were hanging in the (glass-doored) kitchen cabinets. Mom went on about how they were priceless and should never have been there--she even slammed her fists on the kitchen table, in anger, when I said they were always there. She said she would give them to me--she would give me everything--if I had a baby. I told her that was added incentive not to have a baby.

Clothes are piled over the guest bed. Some are torn, but she won't use them for rags or throw them out. Stuff is everywhere.

Oh, and the topic of discussion over lunch was how the President let in all the illegals so they would vote for him, and now they're shooting everyone.

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My parents won't leave for the airport until I call them when I land, because they don't want to have to circle, which is fine. So I called them when I landed, and then called them once I was outside to let them know where I was. They said they were stuck in traffic; I told them to call me when they got to the Airport Roadway--it was chilly, so I'd go back in and then go out. So then they call me 20 minutes later to say they can't find me, and they have to circle. I don't care, but they hate circling, so if they just listened, they wouldn't be doing it. I get irritated because this is a microcosm of the bigger not-listening issue, but I guess I should just save the irritation for when it matters.