My Mum’s House.

I stayed at my mum’s house last night. Whenever I go to her house our conversations usually go something like this:

Her: Do you want some tea?

Me: No I’m ok thanks

Her: What about food, do you want some food?

Me: Maybe later

Her: But I’ve made chilli

Let’s just pause here. The only thing my mum ever makes is chilli. It’s pretty much the only thing she knows how to make. She doesn’t even own a sieve or scales – her cupboards are just stacked with tins of kidney beans. She always thinks it’s really spicy even though she doesn’t actually put any chillies in it, just a splash of Tabasco, and then always does this frantic hand wave in front of her mouth to try and rid the food of spiciness. But it’s basically just mince and kidney beans. Anyway…

Me: I’m not hungry, I’ve already eaten

Her: What about just the meat, no rice?

Me: I’m really not hungry

Her: I’ve got some dessert? You like yoghurt don’t you?

Me: Seriously, I wouldn’t want yoghurt even if I was hungry, which I’m not

This goes on for quite a while, until I’m forced to eat a yoghurt.When I was at Uni I was the complete opposite; I used to come home and devour everything. I’d eat out-of-date coleslaw just because it was there. Once I even ate a biscuit out the bin, because I knew the inside of my mum’s bin was a lot cleaner that the kitchen surfaces of my student house.

I took my laptop up to my mum’s so I could carry on working/checking my facebook/watching videos like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7RgN9ijwE4

But she had neglected to tell me that her internet had gone down three days ago. What followed was a very strained conversation between the two of us. My mum doesn’t know how to use a computer; she still doesn’t understand what “you haven’t got it plugged in” means. Here is a very small snippet of our conversation which may or may not have ended in me crying and repeatedly punching a cushion:

‘When did this go down?’

‘Oooh I’m not sure. Well actually, I was reading my emails on Sunday and then I got a message I didn’t recognise…’

‘What did it say?’

‘It said page cannot be displayed, and it had an angry little cross over the computer symbol’

‘How long did you stay on the computer after it did this?’

‘Well, probably around an hour. I had other stuff to do. But in the end I couldn’t do it.’

I wish she had told me about this before I came to her house. I gots important business to attend to (see above video).

Here is what happened in the hours that followed:

HOUR ONE:

I performed the classic on-off trick with her router. Then I wrapped it in a blanket and hugged it close. Then I tried to make a deal with the devil, and screamed “DON’T YOU DIE ON ME – TAKE ME, TAKE ME INSTEAD!” But to no avail. It was dead.

HOUR TWO:

‘I feel like it was all my fault’ I said to mum. She told me it was ok, and that she’d get it fixed this week. How dare she be so understanding. We all know it was her fault really.

I spent the rest of hour two like this:

Image

HOUR THREE:

Mum roped me in to changing the spotlight bulbs in the bathroom, because she doesn’t know anyone else who’s tall enough to do it (she will be getting a nifty pair of bucket stilts for Christmas). All I could think was that I could be watching David After Dentist right now.

HOUR FOUR:

I ended up watching Jewish Mum of the Year. What has happened to television. Oy vey!

HOUR SIX:

The horrendous evening ended watching Ratatouille in bed for the hundreth time because it’s the only film on my laptop, and wanting to die so I could go to heaven where I’m pretty sure routers never break.

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