I am the kind of person who likes to believe that I am not at all like my mother, until the likenesses smack me upside the head and I can't deny it any longer. I received a phone call from her wherein I maybe got to say two words as she did a verbal whirlwind of "And then I worried that you would think I wasn't thinking of you, which I was, and I wanted you to know that I wish you weren't sick, and I love you, and I wanted to call you this morning and last night and all the time but I couldn't because my house is dirty and I hate it when my house is dirty and oh, hey, I was thinking about that guy you're kind of seeing, and his commitment issues, and I say you should make the best of them and sleep around if you want to, that's what I say and oh God, I just fell over, I have to go I have to go, I'm thinking of you, enjoy being young, I love you the house is dirty!!!"
So. That's my mother. And me. All in one.
And for the first installment of What We Got, last night I made homemade spaghetti-o's with condensed tomato soup and rotini. It was very comforting. Also, I have, it appears, bronchitis. Awesome.