Home Bonding or Bondage?

In case you are wondering, and I know that you are, nothing in your life is going well if you have to move home to live with your parents. This is what my older brother told me the day I moved home to live with my mom. Apparently, it is a quote from Seinfeld when George has to move back in with his folks. It was kind of him to point out the obvious and though I would never say it to his face that did nominate him for MOTO (Master of the Obvious). That said for the past two months I have been living with my mom. Which to be honest has not been bad for me and I would like to say it has not been bad for my mom but I think it is best to let her speak for herself.  Too bad she does not have a blog.
There have been a few ups and downs so far, I have to remember to close the cupboard doors and silverware drawers. This is tricky because for the last some odd years I have not really been concerned with the open and shut case of kitchen cabinets. Honestly, I have not even been good at putting away the silverware in the correct slots.
Let me tell you the story. A few years back I was doing the weekly dishes and I was putting the silverware (or more like the Walmart version of silverware) away in the drawers. It was then that I realized; why be a silverware separatist. Let the silverware meet up and party before they are going to be used and abused again. It was then I decided to simply dump all silverware in the drawer and sift to find a specific utensil when needed. This made complete sense to me and because I was living by myself I am the only one that mattered, ergo this was what I did. Every once and a while my boyfriend at the time could be talked into cooking for me (begged more like it.. he was a very good cook, my mom and I still try to make this spinach salad that he made but we really aren't too sure of the recipe and I don't want to call up and be like I know you are a loser but can I have the recipe?) and he would separate my partying forks and spoons. Do not worry I would put them back together when I did the clean up.  But living with my mom I have to separate the utensils and also shut the drawers.
Add to that I have learned that when using a sponge in the kitchen sink it is important to rinse it out in cold water. This will alleviate a future smell in the rag or sponge. When I first moved in I was given a demonstration and I attempted to put this into practice. Attempted is a strong word let's say I did gave it the ole' college try. But apparently to no avail because the rags started to smell and I was then brought back to another demonstration added upon a practice run through to make sure not only were the rags rinsed with cold water but all potential suds and soap was rinsed out.  Apparently, partying utensils and smelly rags and sponges are not acceptable kitchen etiquette.
But this is not what I have come to blog about today. Today it is time to tell you of a funny conversation I have had with my mom while being her roommate.
Last night my mom and I were talking about the DNC removing God and then attempting a vote to put Him back in their platform. This conversation was done while watching the O'Reilly factor. Here is how this conversation went:
Mom: What were we talking about
Me: The DNC and their vote on putting God back into their platform
Mom: No, it was something else
Me: No, that is pretty much all we had talked about
Mom: No, I think I moved on to a different subject in my head
Me: Oh, I wasn't invited to that conversation
I think there are a lot of conversations occurring in my mom's head that I am not invited to. I can tell this by the sighing that occur at random intervals. This usually happens when I mention I want to change something in the house or more specifically my room. When I first moved in there was a treadmill in the middle of the room so I suggested we put the treadmill in the corner. By the deep sigh that accompanied my moms answer, I knew this was a suggestion that warranted a lot of thought. But alas, my mother caved and the treadmill got moved.
So I guess I am  not the only one who has to be retrained. Kitchen utensils unable to party and mold not allowed to grow must not come close to the frustration of having someone move in on your territory.  I suppose my mother will continue her deep breathing exercises and I will slowly learn to shut the cupboard doors and we will get used to each other. Up until the point it will be time to move out and though we will say differently to others, that point will come just in the nick of time.