Blog #2- Essence of Cutlery
The scent of weed wafts through the museum, overlaying the scent of cutlery. Yes, cutlery has a scent. I never would have thought so until I spent eight hours a day surrounded by it. Now I can't even open the silverware drawer without being met with a pang of boredom.
Most days, I just let the kids sneak in the back and light up in the spork section, but today is not one of those days. This morning left me in no mood for bullshit.
While my dad is usually already at work by the time I wake up, today he and my mom were waiting together downstairs. They sat over a beautiful breakfast of bacon, omelettes and french toast. With a breakfast so beautiful, I knew the yelling was bound to be ugly. I tried to keep my eyes in my food, while my parents stared at me expectantly. It was only delaying the inevitable.
"So how's the cutlery museum?"
"I dunno dad, why don't you ask the cutlery museum?"
"You know what I mean."
"It's fine. A few more months and I might be able to be a tour guide. Make a little more money to finish college."
"You know, I'd probably pay twice as much as you make, even with the promotion."
"He's right honey," my mom interjected, "You could sit at the desk of a law firm instead of a museum and make twice the money."
"I'm trying to be more independent mom. I'm already stuck living here. I don't want you guys paying my income too."
"How about you worry about independence when you have your degree?"
"I get it mom. My life didn't work out exactly how you planned it. Can I just try to figure it out on my own?"
"I don't know honey. Can you?"
For once I stormed out before the argument got too heated. I decided I didn't need the last word today. I left the majority of my breakfast behind. We both felt incomplete.
Now I shoot up from my desk, ready to take my anger out on some highschoolers. I'm pulled back into my seat by the sound of the door opening, a surprisingly unfamiliar sound. In walk two cops.
I guess those kids have bigger problems to worry about now.
"Frankie Arielli? We have a few questions to ask you."
Oh...
Most days, I just let the kids sneak in the back and light up in the spork section, but today is not one of those days. This morning left me in no mood for bullshit.
While my dad is usually already at work by the time I wake up, today he and my mom were waiting together downstairs. They sat over a beautiful breakfast of bacon, omelettes and french toast. With a breakfast so beautiful, I knew the yelling was bound to be ugly. I tried to keep my eyes in my food, while my parents stared at me expectantly. It was only delaying the inevitable.
"So how's the cutlery museum?"
"I dunno dad, why don't you ask the cutlery museum?"
"You know what I mean."
"It's fine. A few more months and I might be able to be a tour guide. Make a little more money to finish college."
"You know, I'd probably pay twice as much as you make, even with the promotion."
"He's right honey," my mom interjected, "You could sit at the desk of a law firm instead of a museum and make twice the money."
"I'm trying to be more independent mom. I'm already stuck living here. I don't want you guys paying my income too."
"How about you worry about independence when you have your degree?"
"I get it mom. My life didn't work out exactly how you planned it. Can I just try to figure it out on my own?"
"I don't know honey. Can you?"
For once I stormed out before the argument got too heated. I decided I didn't need the last word today. I left the majority of my breakfast behind. We both felt incomplete.
Now I shoot up from my desk, ready to take my anger out on some highschoolers. I'm pulled back into my seat by the sound of the door opening, a surprisingly unfamiliar sound. In walk two cops.
I guess those kids have bigger problems to worry about now.
"Frankie Arielli? We have a few questions to ask you."
Oh...
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