Dejected and fuming, I sit at my own kitchen counter absorbing the silence. I hate it in here. But does she listen? No.
“Peach would be such a lovely shade for those mahogany cabinets,” she’ll say.
“I’m tearing those out,” I’ll respond.
“What? Why? They’re perfectly charming and were original to the house!”
“Oh come on, Mom, the old owners put them up in 1970 along with the brown and orange striped contact paper on the inside. I’m tearing them out.”
“Sweetie, that’s such a waste! They’re perfectly fine, you only see that paper when you open them up! We can put up some new contact paper! Oh! And I saw the PERFECT handles for them at Wal-Mart the other day! I’ll just pick them up so we can see how they look before you throw your money away! Just wait, you’ll love it!”
Mom is the kind of woman who talks in exclamation points.