Esskay.P

For those of you who don't know, don't care, have been in prison for the last 25-life and just figured out how to work the large, bright square thing your grandchildren now spend all their time with because at Christmas, while other kids were going to visit their grannies in Minnesota where they would open presents and drink hot cocoa with the little marshmallows, your grandchildren were visiting you at Riker's because grandpa was never nice to you and that's how you ended up on that one episode of Snapped which, ironically enough, you can now watch reruns of on this very same large bright square thing that you just figured out how to use, OR, if you're just new to these here parts of the interwebs, JP is my mom. Those are her initials (obviously) and that's what I call her when she's being weird and obnoxious or, as others love to say, when I'm being rude. But the question of my rudeness is neither here nor there.
Now, everyone who knows me knows that I have this thing where I hate to love my mom. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate her and I would never take her for granted (my dad makes sure of that) but she's just so predictable in the annoying things she does. So just picture it. A predictably annoying mom. Add the fact that she's a clean freak with impeccable taste in...everything. Add to that a million of those mom sayings, slap a Grenadian accent on that bad boy and you have JP. And yes, I said bad boy. Because I'm starting to think that at some point during their 30 year marriage, my parents traded their genitalia and the habits that go with them. The results: JP can shower in 10 minutes, dress in 5 (no easy feat if you consider her wardrobe) and carry twice her own weight. We won't get into what that trade has done for my father.
Anywhoo, I was just sitting here thinking about how much I miss her. Don't get me wrong, she's still the biggest pain in my ass ever. But this house is so empty without her nagging voice floating up the stairs and its weird not seeing her walk into a room and move everything on a table two inches to the left just because she feels the need to be cleaning something and there's nothing left to clean. And it sucks that I can't mock her in the weird voice that makes her laugh. She hasn't called me a jackass in two weeks, I'm freaking losing it over here man. I just need the next two weeks to pass very fast. In the meantime, I will be here. Alone. And motherless. Whatever.