After Time Warner was done mounting me from behind, I settled in on the couch and polished off the night by watching Cellular, which is not a good movie. It’s full of music that goes “da da dum” right before something dramatic happens. I think rent was due for William H. Macy and Kim Basinger, or maybe they got free cell phone minutes for life for doing the movie. I don’t know. But don’t watch it. Don’t.
Anyway, here’s an epilogue to the whole sordid night:
My mom calls me around 10:00 to find out what happened with the cable guy. I relate the whole story, and she feels sorry for me (nice mom). She quickly changes the subject, though, to the package of “high fiber” food she send me a couple of weeks ago, apparently in a state of concern over my 25-year old colon. This instigates one of the oddest conversations my mother and I have ever had. (And this is the woman who, when I would leave the house in high school for a date, would scream after me, “Don’t get anyone in trouble!” We’ve had our moments is all I’m saying.)
Mom: “Tell me, have you been taking the flax?”
(I have been taking the flaxseed she included in the package, along with the organic high fiber cereals with names like “Mother’s Cocoa Bumpers,” which incidentally are actually pretty good Cocoa Puffs knock-offs. But flaxseed . . . let’s just say it’s kind of like ingesting a plunger.)
Me: Jesus mom, it’s ridiculous. I can’t stop going. Every time I go 1, I have to go 2. (I’m running with this one.) I’m serious. Like four times a day. It’s as though I’ve been backed up for three years and my body is making up for it now. Half the time I’m not even sure how it got there. I’ll sit down, and a minute later check on things, and BAM it’s already there!”
Mom (laughing hysterically): “I have to ask . . . .I have – ”
Me (deadpan and still drunk): “Mom . . . I’ve never crapped so much in my life. In fact, there’s a decent chance I’m going right now.”
Mom (still laughing): “Wait, wait . . . hold on . . . I have to ask you a serious question. Haha . . . OK, I have to ask you . . . serious . . question . . .(calming down) Is it floating?
Me (not even phased): “YES!”
Mom: “That’s good!”
(This is where it officially becomes the most bizarre conversation I’ve ever had with my mom.)
Me: “I didn’t know what was going on! I flush and it circles the rim like it’s trying to swim!”
Mom: “That’s good, that means you have enough fiber in your diet.”
Me: “I thought it had air in it . . .”
It was here that we finally let the laughter subside and I could hear my dad in the background saying, “What? What’s going on?” which meant that he was probably trying to sleep. we hang up the phone and I go back to Cellular.
Five minutes later, mom calls back with this:
Mom: “I was just thinking, Monday is Labor Day. They’re not sending out a technician on Labor Day.”
Me: “. . . They made an appointment with me on a known National holiday? They’re just toying with me now.”
I don’t know what was worse – realizing that I’d been duped by a Time Warner technician or remembering that I had told him at the time that “Monday would be great.” (I believe this is what they call “Adding insult to injury.” I get it now. I really do . . .)
All in all, one of the more fucking ridiculous nights of my life – the kind where, after brushing your teeth before bed, you linger that extra second in front of the mirror, giving yourself that look that says, “Really? This is what you’re doing with your life?” Oddly, I slept rather soundly knowing that, indeed, it was what I was doing with my life.