My mother is going to give me an aneurism if she doesn’t shut up and let me throw her a party. She’s turning EIGHTY this year and she thinks that a coupla ol’ chicks getting together and spending the night in Atlantic City is “too much trouble, too much aggravation, too expensive…” Blah, blah, blah. She thinks that somehow calling a casino and booking a room for a jammy party is going to stress my delicate constitution to the point that it will increase the frequency and severity of my dizzy spells. No hotel reservations clerk could possibly be as aggravating and stressful as a neurotic mother who is inventing s**t to worry about. Do you know that she found it reassuring when told her my MRI was scheduled for before her birthday? What the???? Is she going to call the neurologist to make sure I’m healthy enough to take two days off to sit on the beach and go get a massage at a spa? (“Dr. Valderrama, I need a note for my mother to say that I’m healthy enough to go sleep in a beach chair all afternoon while she pumps quarters into slot machines.) As if staying home and going to work would be more relaxing?

She just called me and said I could do what I want. Youth and stamina wins out over age and weariness… except I ain’t all that young and boy, am I tired of arguing with her.