maaah-zaaaah

My mom caught me online and we got to chatting about our accountant and her tax return. She waited till about 15 minutes into the conversation to tell me she was at the Emergency Room earlier and was in a leg brace because she screwed up her knee.

Hmmmm.. Well played X-Donor!

Of course, any weirdness between us as a result of her “new life” was negated. An only-child, mama’s boy doesn’t like to hear about his mother getting hurt.

I gathered up the mountain of mail and paperwork, packed up the powerbook and headed over to her place to work for the day.

I don’t care for the area she lives in. It’s the affluent, (more like “projected affluence”), far west suburbs of St. Louis… The zipcode smacks of pretense – and I generally feel sick as I’m maneuvering around the soccer moms in their Lincoln Navigators babbling on their cell phones.

Knee-jerk culture-jammer instincts and armchair socialist ideals aside… I didn’t notice this time… I just wanted to get there and make sure she was alright.

She seemed fine despite the blue nylon girdle thing strapped to her leg and a dose of vicadin swimming around in her bloodstream.

I went and got us a nummy lunch at the gourmet supermarket right up the street. (I suppose living in yup-central “does” have a few advantages).. Chatted… and I worked while she dozed.

We’ll find out if she needs surgery this week…

She’s got wireless so making house calls are less disruptive to making a living… and doing stuff like not blogging.