Freaky Friday

I just started a new job this week, so my evenings have been complete wastelands after making the 45-minute drive down
I-30 between work and school every day. This is not to imply that my evenings aren't normally complete wastelands anyway, but this is like Wasteland Cubed Times The Square Root Of Pi we're talking about here. It's incredibly cruel, and it's not even April.
And tonight I went from Boring to Golden Girl. I got home from work, exhausted, ordered a pizza for my mom and myself. Got the kind she likes: Pizza Hut thin crust veggie. I assumed she would just be home within a few minutes, because she had gone out for an hour or so with a friend. Four hours later, I was sitting on the couch watching TV and wondering where she was. I called her a few times. No answer. I was like the overprotective parent who waits for their kid to come home on a Friday night. That's what I was LIKE. IN REALITY I was a 25 year-old sitting in front of the news on the weekend acting as if her middle-aged mother (you're welcome for not publishing your age, mom) was supposed to check in if she went anywhere after the movie. I started to wonder, you know. What kind of lady was this friend that she was out with? Was she responsible? Did she drink and drive? Were they out trying to pick up older men? And if so, they better not think that "menopause" qualifies as "protection".
I had been debating whether or not she deserved to be grounded, when she walked through the door (in one piece) carrying a grocery bag with milk in it so I could have my Cap'n Crunch in the morning. At that moment all was forgiven.

Tomorrow on alyse: A profuse apology forced by my mother at gunpoint for implying in this post that she went out and picked up guys.
But really, I mean, who's to say?