“Sarah, honey, I’m going to come pick you up for lunch. I’ll be at your house in twenty minutes.”
Shit. My mom hasn’t been to my apartment in ages. We usually meet at my brother’s house or elsewhere. I panicked imagining all the things that may bother her. Yes I’m an adult, but no matter what age I am I will always be her little girl.
First things first, I opened all the windows in an attempt to cool my little sauna apartment down. I can hear her now, “It’s so hot in here sweetie. How can you stand it? You really need to move. Maybe buy a house… your younger brothers all have.”
I hit the bathroom next. Every Saturday of my childhood consisted of chores. I was in charge of cleaning the bathrooms in our house—with four brothers none of whom could manage to aim a stream of urine, this was quite the task. I’ve hated cleaning bathrooms ever since. Needless to say, my bathroom is always a disaster. Knowing her need for a clean, germ-free bathroom I scoured every surface.
After racing around for exactly twenty-two minutes the phone rang. “Sarah, dear, I’m two minutes from your house. Meet me outside. See you in a second.”
Fuck. Seriously? All that and she wasn’t even coming upstairs. As I walked outside to meet her I sighed a deep breath of relief. Luckily she hadn’t come upstairs because guess who forgot to make her bed and put away her unmentionables? Again.