Momma Don't Play

June 27th, 2014


To: the people living in my house
From: your mother
Re: my writing

By now you’ve realized that every cell phone, gaming system, DVD/BluRay player, TV, iPod, laptop, and any other electronic plaything I could get my hands on has been confiscated. You’ve given me no other alternative except to take these drastic measures. Your items are secure; under lock and key at a storage facility. Don’t bother trying to find which one. I rented a space under a fictitious name – and no, it’s not my pseudonym.

I have rented a private cabin, also under an assumed name. I and your beloved luxuries will return only when the following demands are met in full:

1. My office/workspace will be respected at all times. This includes my laptop, PC, printer, printer paper, and anything related to my writing.

2. No means no. I don’t know why this is so hard for you people to grasp.

3. Unless there is a substantial amount of blood, a vital body part is injured/missing, unexplainable smoke, one of you can’t be found, or some other ACTUAL emergency, I am not to be interrupted when I am writing.

4. I’m not the only parent in the house. Start asking your father.

5. Anything I can do, you can do. This, of course, applies to those of you over the age of 12. Nate is the only one who can’t reach the tap or the refrigerator door yet, so that means all of you are capable of getting your own glasses of water, etc.

6. Headphones must be worn when listening to music, and TV’s muted with closed captioning enabled, when I am writing.

7. I’m the writer, that’s why.

I will be home late tomorrow afternoon. When I get back, I expect the laundry to be folded and put away, the refrigerator restocked, the carpets vacuumed, and the beds made. I will be meeting with each of you privately, to ensure you understand to what you are agreeing. Each and every one of you will sign this document if you ever expect to see your stuff again. Anyone who violates this agreement will be forced to watch as your items are slowly and carelessly dismantled and sold on eBay for parts.

For my part, I promise to not make your lives a living hell.

Your Loving Mother