[dazed and confused]
Being in Tromsø this summer means spending more consecutive time with my mother than I have since... well, since I moved to Italy at seventeen. My unquenchable thirst for space and novelty makes things less than trouble-free. But every time I'm about to join Virginia Woolf in a petition for a room of one's own, my mom turns around and surprises me anew.
Example in point:
Yesterday I wanted to stop by the village comic book shop. My mom had asked me to go shoe shopping with her, so I felt bad and selfish for dragging her through geeky subcultures that were sure to be of no interest to her.
[entering comic book store]
My mom: "Ooh; do they have David Mack's Kabuki series? I borrowed that off a friend and I'm totally addicted! What's this comic? And this?"
Me: [hits floor]
Example in point:
Yesterday I wanted to stop by the village comic book shop. My mom had asked me to go shoe shopping with her, so I felt bad and selfish for dragging her through geeky subcultures that were sure to be of no interest to her.
[entering comic book store]
My mom: "Ooh; do they have David Mack's Kabuki series? I borrowed that off a friend and I'm totally addicted! What's this comic? And this?"
Me: [hits floor]