Because my apartment is a REALLY REALLY REALLY small studio, I have a loft bed -- okay, adult bunk bed -- to save space. Because I'm six feet off the ground, nothing, including the phone, is within arm's reach. As I climbed down the ladder and made my way over to the answering machine, all sorts of horrible scenarios played out in my mind. I thought I'd be attending a wake before the week was out. With a quivering hand I reached for the playback button and out came the soft, Scottish-tinged voice:
Uh, yes hello. It's Mum. Just calling to remind you that today is a holy day of obligation. Okay, bye bye now. BEEP!What the hell?! That bit of news couldn't wait until later? I guess in a way it's good because I can now formulate a white lie about going to Mass instead of her ambushing me (oh yes, I HAVE been ambushed). I disagree with my parents about many things but I've learned to choose my battles. If believing I go to Mass keeps the mother happy, so be it. I'm saving up the heartache for when I finally reveal that her daughter's a big ol' rug muncher. Well, perhaps I'll be a bit more tactful than that...
I don't even remember what holy day it is. Okay, it's May so it must have something to do with Mary, correct? The Assumption? I racked my feeble, sleep-addled brain in the minutes following that message trying to figure out what month, nevermind what religious observance, it is. I hate starting the day off all guilty and confused. I can get myself into that state very well on my own, thank you.
