
mom: where's the poppyseed dressing? i could swear i put it away but it's not where i--oh. it's already out. somebody got it out.
dad: i think that somebody was you.
mom: no, it wasn't.
me: it's hard to imagine lillian getting it out.
mom: i think cim got it out.
me: you're crazy.
mom: why? oh, because you don't get things out for other people? okay.
me: i might have, had they asked me to. which no one did.
mom: (sarcastically) it's called the 'Helper Syndrome.'
me: OR it's that i didn't get it out today. and since i have a memory i know that i did not.
mom: that was a low blow.
now she's fighting with dad's attendant publically. dad's not saying a word. and he's saying nothing to support her. the attendant thinks she shouldn't have to unload the dishwasher, because she's supposed to do for him and the dishes belong to the whole family. and mom is so confrontational and snippy and--how do you expect, i mean, it's like a TEACHER being rude, because the student, the employee, is in a position where they're not ALLOWED to be rude. it's like she's consitutionally incapable of just saying what she means, saying what she really wants.