Mother is actually concerned as to why I am not going to this 'huge festival' with all my friends. I asked her how she'd like to sleep in a tent marinading in mud, while listening to locals bands and watching people get high. She quickly changed the subject:
Mother: So what are you doing this weekend then, Darling?
Olive: Am going to Franschhoek. Lunch on a wine farm, staying on a wine estate. Free massages, free wine tasting, free meals, then off to a wine festival on Sunday.
Mother: All I heard was wine.
Olive: Isn't it great?!
I hear Mother take a deep breath, then again quickly change the subject.
Mother: How is the new flat?
Olive: So lovely.
Mother: How is that little kitten, is he settling in?
Olive: If you define 'settling in' as eating my bedroom door, eating the cupboard door, eating my shoes, knocking over all my bathroom products and knocking a bedside table lamp on to my head while I sleep... then yes, he is settled.
Mother: Does New Flatmate like him?
Olive: I think he did. Until it ate his shoe laces and meowed outside his bedroom door for a good two hours at 4am.
Mother: Have you cooked for him, I think you should? Ask what he would like?
Olive: I did. He asked me to cook the cat… Told him I'd make him a CATserole. (Ba-dum-dum-TSSHSHHH)
Mother: So what are you doing this weekend then, Darling?
Olive: Am going to Franschhoek. Lunch on a wine farm, staying on a wine estate. Free massages, free wine tasting, free meals, then off to a wine festival on Sunday.
Mother: All I heard was wine.
Olive: Isn't it great?!
I hear Mother take a deep breath, then again quickly change the subject.
Mother: How is the new flat?
Olive: So lovely.
Mother: How is that little kitten, is he settling in?
Olive: If you define 'settling in' as eating my bedroom door, eating the cupboard door, eating my shoes, knocking over all my bathroom products and knocking a bedside table lamp on to my head while I sleep... then yes, he is settled.
Mother: Does New Flatmate like him?
Olive: I think he did. Until it ate his shoe laces and meowed outside his bedroom door for a good two hours at 4am.
Mother: Have you cooked for him, I think you should? Ask what he would like?
Olive: I did. He asked me to cook the cat… Told him I'd make him a CATserole. (Ba-dum-dum-TSSHSHHH)
No comments:
Post a Comment