...or why I may not go to Florida after all

Sunday, my mother announced that she has some rules for me. I'm supposed to follow them when I come to get her from Ft. Myers. Here they are:

1. I may not adjust the volume of my iPod when I'm driving. (or listen to political satire, Harry Connick Jr., or rap music) HipHop is okay though. (the iPod plugs directly into the radio and those knobs adjust it)

2. I must stop driving on the wrong side of the road. Huh? This means no driving in the left lane. Ever.

3. I may not turn the heat down from her preferred setting. (90 degrees if she can get it)

4. I may not drive after dark. (unless it's her idea, i.e. when we left Michigan to begin driving to Florida at 5 p.m.)

5. I must be nice to her. Huh? When haven't I been nice? "Well," she said, "you almost hung up on me last night. You might have said good bye and you probably thought that the call was disconnected but I was still on the line. ARGHH!!! (She hangs up on me every time I say something she doesn't like. Example: I like Harry Connick, Jr.)

6. I must never ever use the "f" word in her presence. Wha?


I suggested that we should sit down and talk about her concerns as two adults. I asked her to respect me enough to do that. I told her it's not appropriate for her to dictate to me since I'm a full grown adult and not a child.

No dice.

It's her car. If I don't follow the rules, she doesn't care, Burt will drive her home.

Now that's good news! She finally agrees that she shouldn't drive all the way from Michigan to Florida by herself. I'm not in favor of the boyfriend driving her, but it might save my sanity. There isn't enough Valium for me - wait a minute, I could give it to her. She'd sleep the whole way! Now why didn't I think of it sooner?