Mom's always been critical of our appearance. On a recent trip to Lewiston,
Joe and I were getting ready for church.
Lala: (Looking me up and down)Is THAT what you are wearing to church? Joe,
you should have let me iron that shirt.
Me: Nevermind. We're late. Let's go.
On the way back from church, she's still griping about our clothes.
Lala: I mean, at least iron them. You're going out in public.
Me: (frustrated at this point). Mom! Joe and I are adults. We have 2 small
children. Honestly, this is as good as it's gonna get. We know what we look
like and have obviously decided we're okay with that. We manage to get
ourselves dressed and to work every day without your help. Leave it alone!
So, unless there's blood on our clothes or something, I don't want to hear
about it any more.
Lala: (pauses). Well, there IS blood on your clothes.