It occurs to me that I may be slightly bossy and overbearing. Last night, I was helping my friend Katie get organized for her move tomorrow (hey, anyone wanna come help?). I marched right into her house, assembled boxes, issued her with a to-do list, and assaulted her with two hours of organizational tips and packing strategies. Poor Katie is going to spend today Mapquesting directions from her old place to her new one, which she will issue to all drivers at tomorrow’s move. At one point, I even said, “If you’re looking for something to do, you can bring up boxes from downstairs!” I apologized immediately afterwards, because, well, wow. That’s pretty bossy.
The highlight of the evening, however, was the Most Indecisive Man in D.C., who came to buy Katie’s vacuum cleaner. Within five minutes, I was ready to rip his throat open with a rusty can opener. He dithered over the purchase of a $25 secondhand vacuum cleaner like he was about to adopt a disadvantaged child with Angelina Jolie. Did it work? What’s up with the duct tape? Can he negotiate the price? He even test drove the stupid thing around the living room. I just about had a heart attack watching him waffle. It's a handi-vac, not a baby or a house!
On any given day, I am completely insane. I like to know what’s happening and when. Indecisiveness stresses me out. I mean, how hard is it to buy a vacuum cleaner, pick a restaurant, or order a drink? Billions of people all over the world make billions of decisions all day long. Step it up, folks. Let’s go!
I’m aware that most people are much more relaxed than I am. I’ve been trying to figure out where the insanity all came from. And now I know. Thanks, Mom!
Packing Katie up gave me distinct flashbacks to my mom helping me get ready to go away to college. We began shopping in May, when I officially decided to go to Carolina. We had lists. We had a special area of the house designated for my college dorm stuff. We packed up the station wagon the night before. We were definitely stopping for lunch in South Hill, as it was exactly two-thirds of the way to Chapel Hill.
Sometimes I’m so much like my mom that it freaks me out. Both of us wear our hair short and we usually dress in earth tones and flats. We’re both perfectionists with Christmas decorations, and we always look slightly cranky in photos. Our mannerisms are remarkably similar. The main difference is that I’m a more outgoing person than she is (though, let’s face it, I’m even more outgoing than the average golden retriever).
It’s weird. I know that all women turn into their mothers, but who knew it would happen so young?
PS - Last week was a big one for birthdays, so happy birthday Bob, Roxanne, and Mom. (No, I don't know how old my mom is, but then again, she doesn't know my age either. That's what keeps us both feeling so young!)