I was cleaning out my desk when I came across an old key to my mother's house. I don't know if it is more shocking that I still have the key or that I can remember the year that I acquired it.
After I graduated from college, I went home to live with Mom. The unspoken arrangement was that I would move out when I got a job and found an apartment. I got a job. But, the comforts of living in a home where food was delivered every night were too great. I never found an apartment.
It was a fantastic situation. I got home from work and pillaged the fridge. I played a few video games in the basement and then I got dressed to Go Out (read: I put on my f*ck 'em jeans). I got home just in time to shower and go to work. Or sometimes, just go to work. Everything was working out perfectly.
Mom didn't agree. She tried to get me out of her house for six months. She tried logic and reason. She tried yelling. She tried bribery. She even tried an intervention.
Finally, she changed the locks. I think that she thought that changing the locks would be as effective as the year that she gave me luggage for my birthday.
It was a harsh lesson. For her.
Unphased, I slipped my skinny arm into the mail slot and unlocked the door. I let myself in and sat down to watch something on Lifetime about mothers who abandon their daughters.
Mom was not thrilled when she came home. I guess she had already seen the Lifetime movie.
Sometimes, I think that I should live a life of crime. Except for that whole incarceration part. I have all the things necessary for a good crime spree; black clothing and skinny arms.
P.S. Please note that I have a date with Fringes on Thursday. Depending on the wi-fi situation in the Lone Star State, my posts and comments may be irregular. I am still regular, in case you are wondering.