Hold the Jars

Now this incident isn’t funny (or at least it wasn’t meant to be), nor very large- but somehow I needed to break down the happenings that led to her screaming at me. The screaming isn’t the big deal either, I just found it rather odd that she would get mad at me for something as silly as being in the washroom when she needed me to hold her jars.

So this morning my mother called me into the kitchen, where I found her standing on the thin slab of kitchen platform. She was cleaning an upper closet. She asked me to put the lid on the cooker, while it was still on the stove.

Naturally, I couldn’t do it– I am scared of cookers, and much more so when they’re hot. I have no good reason to be scared- except that I think the whistle sound those things make is traumatizing.

So I think that’s the first thing that might have vexed her.

Then she asked me to hand her the numerous jars kept below, which I started to do. I’d just finished playing my video game, and I’d thought I’d go to the gym, but I realized this was going to take a while, so I made the mistake of mentioning it to her.

That must’ve been the second thing, I suppose.

And maybe the fact that I had been playing The Last of Us for the past two hours while she worked away in the kitchen was an additional factor.

I told her to call me if she needed anything, and then went to the washroom, because people go to washrooms when they need to release faeces.

One thing that I did not notice was that I was wearing her slippers. This is one really annoying habit of mine- I steal slippers. I need slippers. If I’m not wearing slippers, and I see someone else’s slippers lying around- I will take them. It’s not even a conscious thing. I subconsciously steal slippers. I’m a subconscious slipper-kleptomaniac.

I’m almost entirely sure that was the third thing.

But it wasn’t the final thing.

While I was in the washroom, my mom decided that she needed my help. The weird thing about my house (that causes an excellent amount of frustration) is that noise doesn’t travel into the kitchen. It travels out of the kitchen, but not into.

So my mom is in there, screaming my name- and I’m stuck in the washroom that adds another door to barricade sound, screaming back to tell her that I’m in the washroom. If there was a third person somewhere in the living room, they’d be able to hear the both of us, but only phrases.


“MA I’M-”



This miscommunication was definitely not my fault- right?

My mom came all the way to the door of the washroom, to tell me, “You kids are burdens on us all, so selfish- you can’t even help your mother for a second!”

“Maybe you should bury yourself with that laptop!” (Maybe my laptop was another additional factor..?)

She was halfway back to the kitchen when she came back to my washroom door to scream at me a little more, “AND YOU TOOK MY SLIPPERS.”

So I suppose the washroom was the fourth thing.

I didn’t do anything particularly exasperating, did I?

No, but later I found out that I’d managed to dirty the kitchen floor in the little time that I’d stood in the kitchen.

This was the fifth, and now I can call my mother sane.

Little things really do irk a person out of his sanity, I do not blame my mother. In fact, I find myself getting mad at her more often than she gets mad at me. On any other day, I would’ve gotten mad at her for screaming at me for no particular reason.

Today, however, I woke up to this.

A teacher finally liked something I wrote, and even mentioned it.

:’) Little things sometimes bring you back to sanity, as well.

(P.S. If your mother ever asks you to hold some jars for her- DO IT!!)

(P.P.S. I couldn’t find a relevant image that fit, so I give you rainbow nerd cats. Everyone loves cats. :3 )


4 thoughts on “Hold the Jars

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s