text to my daughter: I’m getting a tattoo that says I’m not feeling the love. I understand. you’re busy picking out the retirement homes several states away from us that you plan to put us in the first time we drop our forks. It’ll be “sorry mom, but you obviously can’t take care of yourself and you’ve got to go. ( a Bill Cosby rant)
Child: I’m reluctant to respond because these are getting progressively more entertaining.
Me: when people ask about you I say ” daughter? daughter who? I have no daughter”
oh wait…once…now I remember
Child: is your memory that bad already? glad I have the retirement home picked out.
Me: just send cash for the week in Fiji and all is forgiven. oh, and get us the comfy seats in the front of the plane.
BTW, got some yarn to crochet while I wait for the call you were going to return in five minutes yesterday. Might as well make a shawl to keep me warm when my daughter leaves me out in the cold. While you party in the sordid underbelly of Washington night life.
I just remembered. I don’t know how to crochet.
Child: you’re having way too much fun with this.
Me: I’ll just wrap myself up in the yarn and pretend I’m the cat.