In these times of rough, I turn to memories of home life. Today, I present you with the memory of my mother and her lack of child care whenever she hears a loud crash or thump in her house.
Scene: A 12-year-old Zaftig has knocked down several large Funk & Wagnalls encyclopedias reaching for the Es so she could look up England (a place she swears is her former-life home country).
Zaftig: (Scream)
Mother: What the hell was that?
Zaftig: (Silence)
Mother: Zaftig, what did you knock down?
Zaftig: (Silence as she put the books back.)
Mother: Ten minutes later: Are you okay in there?
Zaftig: Yes, I'm alive.
Scene II: A 25-year-old Zaftig accidentally knocks over a CD tower, causing it to break and several Karen Carpenter CDs to crash to the floor.
Zaftig: SHIT!
Mother: What the hell was that?
Zaftig: Just me dying.
Mother: Well, did you break anything?
Ah, memories.
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