Conversations WIth . . . Vol. I

My Mother

Note: During the following conversation my mother never looks up from the crossword she's doing.

ME: Ow! My neck frickin' hurts.

HER: You need to turn your head more.

ME: What?

HER: You're so short that you always have to look up at everything. Isn't your office chair set as high as it'll go?

ME: Yeah.

HER: And you still have to look up at your computer and, correct me if I'm wrong, you said your desk comes up to your chest.

ME: Uh hu.

HER: See? You need to turn your head from side to side during the day . . . . You're like a person in a wheelchair.

ME: (staring at her incredulously) What?

HER: They're always looking up too. I bet their necks hurt.

ME: So, what you're saying is that I'm so short that I'm disabled?

HER: Yep.

(I walk away.)

HER: (yelling after me) Or a midget! (laughs for a good five minutes)