Congratulations on Deceiving the Woman Who Birthed You!

You’re a cowardly twenty nine year old who works data entry as an alternative to pursuing and potentially failing at a career in a field you care about. Your life is comfortable, if miserable, and you manage to hold on to a significant portion of your income by living with your mother.

At the age of twenty nine.

We don’t judge you for that. We’ve all been there. Sharon here in the office, for example, lives with her mother, and she’s thirty five. Sharon’s mother also has leukemia, but she still loves living rent free. In fact she’s gone on record that she’d let the bitch die if it wasn’t for the fact that she loves watching cable and being able to leave work at erratic hours without anyone questioning her.

But you simply want to avoid even the most minute responsibility. You’d be able to handle yourself just fine but as long as you live with your mother you have an excuse for why women don’t want to talk to you and an extra eight to ten hundred dollars a month in your pocket to spend on booze and notepads for your “novel.”

But lately she’s been getting sick of it. She’s nice enough about it, but she wants to retire soon, and enjoying her retirement is contingent on getting you the fuck out of her house.

You’ve been savvy to it, which means you’ve been avoiding her so that she can’t initiate that discussion which will end with you leaving forever. That means a lot of eating in your room and pretending you can’t hear her. But tomorrow she’s going to try to put an end to it.

She’ll be waiting for you when you return from your busy day typing names into a database at Kaiser Permanente so they can decide who to deny coverage to this week. She’ll gesture for you to sit as she sees you, but you’ll feign ignorance and try to walk by her as quickly as possible. When you pass her she’ll reach out and grab your wrist. Her grip will be just as strong as it was when you were a child.

“Honey,” she’ll say, dragging you down to a chair, “we need to talk.”

She’ll lay down that she wants you out of the fucking house by thirty. She’ll use that exact phrase, actually. But you’re no slouch. You had this covered.

You’re going to burst out weeping when she finishes, confessing your online gambling problem with tears in your eyes. You don’t actually have an online gambling problem, but some creative banking and a few hours of video poker should be able to keep you in free rent for another month and a half at least before she finds out what you’ve done and kicks you out for being a terrible son.

Congratulations on Deceiving the Woman Who Birthed You!