the Enchantresses and You

I’m on the rush to see your name pop yellow from that miniscule of a window as I chat the minutes away. (tick tock).
As I wait, my mind drifts to another dimension as I am secretly jittery about work transpo and awfully disturbed by a cacophony of high frequency voices amazingly emanating from one and only one person only minutes ago.

When I woke up, I was met by an irksome situation from no less than my mama. Oh I don’t know what’s with Mama and nagging. Almost as if the plain human and idea was doomed to co-exist and every inhabiting female who becomes one, becomes one. Get it?

She had to drag me from the bed and order me around the screen, clicking here and there. Who can reason out with her? She’s the queen, the ruler and the enchantress of this home-world I live in. With my tired eyes I had to squint to type the words on the keypad as she sat behind me rambling on and on about every person who comes within a meter radius.

Makes me thing it’s a good think she has a hubby ten years her senior. Or maybe that could even be the reason why she’s tight as a petticoat worn by eighteenth century women.

Could it be that one day I’ll be like her? Obssessive about notions, compulsive about actions. One time, her own mama, my grandmama, gave everyone a long and tedious lecture in a voice and pitch that could only come from an old mistress in the home. Everyone was subject to her scrutiny; from Bords who didn’t brig his glass to the kitchen, to Charles who left his wet towel hanging on a chair, to Mimi who didn’t kiss her even as she offered her money, to Aunt Cherry who’s son skipped class, to the maid who didn’t wipe the table before lunch and to me who’s only wrong is to have a boyfriend. But the unexpected wham of a reaction came from my mama.
Suddenly she was pensieve and inconspicuously (on one corner) she remarked how she could possibly end like grandma one day so that we’ll just have to put her on a nursing home. (Just great).

Are all women like this? Ill answer my own question, "Well not really…"

It takes too long for him to come online. I’m running out of thoughts and getting more restless every minute as the seconds speed up mercilessly.
I should go….

(I’ll wait for you at work.)