Chattering Teeth

I’ve been discussing the prospect of moving out with my parents, something my mother cannot understand because living in the same house as my parents must simply be heaven on earth. Nevermind the fact that my mother moved out of home when she was 15 because “that was different - my parents were annoying.” Can you imagine how hard it is to settle on just one thing to say after being offered that line?

After a slight ‘altercation’ on friday night between myself and my parents (I made a joke about how boring cricket was, my father cracked the shits, I told him he was rude (yes, I actually said ‘rude’)), I think my parents were trying to make amends by offering to take me down to Domayne, a furniture and home electricals store to spend a $50 I had. This isn’t the kind of store I’d normally shop at on account of the heavily inflated prices simply because they arrange the stock they have in colour groups so as to appear as if it has been “designed”, but I had the voucher to spend.

After struggling to find a toaster under $70, I decided to find a rice cooker and vegetable steamer and go on our merry ways. I had the option of an older stock model for $43 or the current stock for $55. As the only difference was the colour (white vs stainless steel, which is a real pain to keep clean), I went for the older model and walked up to the counter. While standing in line, my parents held a typically detailed conversation about which model I really should have chosen with insightful comments like, “Wasn’t the top clear on the other one?… No, it was aluminium…. What about the buttons? Were they rounder?”

When we reached the counter after a considerable wait (and don’t worry, there was plenty of loud commentary about that), my mother tried to buy a $5 gift card, but it wouldn’t work in combination with the gift card. The overwhelmed but kind-spirited cashier was trying to get through the line as quickly as possible and my mother was not helping. I was more than happy to forego the $7, but my parents were not. Cue a $7 shopping spree through the electrical department of Domayne as the three of us spread out in different directions to find something under $7. Batteries? $12. Ipod cover? $30. Blank CDs? $18. Finally my parents grabbed a ream of paper ($6.95) and joined the line again. A few moments later, after seemingly handing over all my personal details, we walked back through the shop to the car with a rice cooker and a ream of paper.

I thought the nightmare of shopping with my parents was over. I couldn’t foresee the row of electronic massage chairs lining the path to the exit. Imagine my horror while my parents try out each one multiple times discussing each one like there was a remote chance they put the $6000 on their credit card and walk out with one of those monsters of leather and fake wood-panelling strapped to the roof of the Volvo (also with the leather and fake wood-panelling). At one point, when all the machines were bulging and thrusting, it looked like the scene from Are You Being Served when Mr Humphries puts the chattering teeth down the underpants of one of the mannequins, except as if this was David Jones’ stocktake sale. When my parents, who had no hope of reading the small screens in front of them started pressing buttons making one machine continuously beep, I knew it was all over.

After what I suspect was supposed to be an operation to encourage me to stay home at least until the year is over, all I could think about in the car on the way home is how long it will take me to pack my things. At least I’ll have rice and some paper to write my recipe on.