Catching Idle Butterflies

Should I be glad . . . or scared?

I've always known I have my mother's sense of humor. Sometimes the very fact scares me . . . or at least be frightened for those exposed to it.

And then there are moments I'm glad to be like her. This is one of those times, if for no other reason than I could detect her over-the-top sarcasm right away.

She and Tom have just bought a lot and house to live here in the summertime. It's not built yet, but should be completed by May or June. Anyway, I have been helping her out with some of the details since I'm . . . well . . . here.

I just received this email from her requesting more help.

Huge, Presumptuous, Noxious, Painful Mewling for Favor

Hi My Darling Anne Whom I Love So Much,

We's thinking. When we arrive at the house, when it's done, we will have no furniture. We could probably sleep in the van, and sit on rocks, but considering that new furniture can take up to three weeks to deliver, I'm begging you to help us, and protect us from lower back pain and insomnia.

If I sent you money, would you visit a reasonably priced furniture store, buy two platform beds and a dining room set? Then, go out to the house when they deliver them? Even if it were during working hours?

Would you consider doing that, or would you rather spit in my face, forcing to weep copiously with woe until the end of time?

But thanks so much for your time, reading this e-mail. You are so kind and sweet.

Your Loving, Dependent Mother

Now how can I say no to such desperation (the little, shameless manipulator)?