Monday, May 11, 2009

The Sulk Ray

Context: When we got home from seminary, I went to the computer in order to read my daily comics and get on my blog. My mom got here first. I waited 'patiently' for her to finish (only occasionally nudging or hinting at her). She noticed me hovering (gee, I wonder how) and exploded. (Well, in the interest of good reporting, I'll admit that it was a modest explosion. More of a pop than a bang, really.) I was informed that we were out of clean glasses, that there were multiple dirty dishes in the kitchen, that this was somehow my fault (it is one of my chores to do the dishes. My other chores include laundry- cleaning and folding- even though technically this is supposed to be the Teacher's lookout, there are days when she can't do it or it piles up too high- cooking, sweeping, vacuuming, washing counters, tables, sinks, and toilets, and any other household chore you can think of. Except dusting. I don't even pretend to dust). I was further informed that she would not allow me on the computer until, and I quote, 'the dishes are done'.
Mental Process: I don't want to do the dishes. Of course the dishes are dirty. The dishes are always dirty. The dishes will always be dirty until people finally give in and agree to stop eating. Those dishes are dirty because, uh, I cooked for you? More than once? Yesterday, which was Sunday, which is supposed to be 'someone else's' dish day? Besides, it's too early in the morning for you to be complaining about (insert here) already.
Conclusion: This is blatant blackmail. Extortion. Political posturing. And I'm not giving in to it.
Result: I sat and sulked. Kind of like how protesters sit and sulk in front of the capitol. But there was only one of me, so she ignored me fairly successfully. I sat and glared. No result. I wished upon a star for a sulk ray so that I could transfer the full sulkiness of me directly to her with no interference (i.e. turning her back and not looking at me). I said "Feel the pain of my displeasure." She laughed and ignored me some more. Refusing to lose, I went away and read a book. Then I made breakfast and did some dishes and got on the computer. But I didn't do all of them.
And the moral of the story is that ultimatums don't do much for anybody but they really don't get you anywhere with a teenager.

1 comment:

  1. I had a comment all written out, and then decided it wasn't nearly sympathetic enough. Let me try again.

    Poor, poor peaches. The TRIALS and SUFFERING of living with a Mean Mom! Never mind that yesterday was Mother's Day - it's Monday now, and complaining about your mom is fair game! Poor, poor you!!!

    There, was that sympathetic enough? (; (Hey, I never said anything about sincerity!)