Recently I've become more in tune with some of these traits that I inherited from my mother. [Husband? You can go ahead and stop reading now, mkay?] She is just as wonderfully awkward around new people as I am, has an undeniable and insatiable sweet tooth, and cries at the most ridiculous and innocent of images, memories, and holiday greeting cards. To this day, I still cannot watch Animal Planet for fear of breaking down and screaming for THE ANTELOPE! THEY'RE EATING HIM ALLIIIIIIIVE! WHY IS THE CAMERA MAN JUST WATCHING! AHHH GAAHHHHDD NOOOO...
But just yesterday I noticed something that I'd hoped I wouldn't develop until I was old, substantially more gray, and possibly senile since these elderly milestones offer opportunities for excuses and dismissal of odd behavior. But at age 31, with a head of hair that can still be plucked of its gray interlopers, and a mind that is only slightly clouded by medication and sleep deprivation, I have no excuse for the emergence of this Home Remedy phenomenon.
No, it's not Windex. It does not involve whiskey. Hell, I don't even call upon the need for witch doctors, priests, or herbal concotions. No, my go-to is water. That's right. Water. The other day I caught myself prescribing the substance for about the sixty hundredth time. Observe:
Husband: Man, I've had this headache for at least two days now.
Me: You probably need to drink more water.
PlusOne: [calling from bathroom] MAAHHM! I can't go POOOPEE!
Me: Well, did you drink all your water this morning like I asked? Wait there; I'll bring you something to drink.
Me: [Thinking to self] Fuck, why are these cats being such assholes?!
AH. They probably want some fresh water.
T9: [Gagging on an overstuffed mouthful of pancake]
Me: Geeze, kid, chew! Swallow! Here, have some water.
Mother: I can just feel my blood pressure rising; this whole mess is stressing me out.
Me: No, mom; stop exaggerating. You're probably just drinking too much water. [Smacks glass out of her hand, sending it shattering to the floor.] There.
I suppose that it could be worse. And there's a good chance my family has yet to pick up on this pattern, thereby writing off my every word to OLD AGE and secretly researching affordable nursing homes. However, I'm on red alert, just to be sure. And denying my husband, children, and cats of any future water intake in an effort to suppress future urges. This should do the trick.