So I finally succumbed to my three-week cold and stayed home, and welcomed Mom and Dad, since they were both home sick too. Mom happily ensconced herself on my couch in front of her Korean soaps we DVR’d for her (she digs this contemporary one where all the handsome men have metrosexual hair and the characters go on for inordinate amounts on mundane things like the nature of sleeping pills or how to best take care of a pet bird, in between family and class clashes) while my father cleaned my kitchen.
It was great to have the company, as I hate staying inside all day. As I was having one of my coughing fits, Mom rubbed my back, just like the good old days of childhood, and gently said, “You know, you’re really getting old,” which only made me choke more b/c now I know who to turn to when I need a pep talk. I think the only thing she says that’s funnier is when she practices her words from Spanish class on me. Like she’ll call, and just count to twenty-six in Spanish with her Korean accent. It’s pretty awesome.
By the time they left, I was still a cough-a-holic, but passed a few hours quite amicably in their company and my kitchen looks fabulous.