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You're delusional if you think I'll change just because you want me to.
That's not what I meant.
Oh really? Then explain it to me.
I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. I just meant that it might be rewarding for you to use your mind a bit more. Like, join us when we're having a serious discussion instead of going off and doing laundry. Or fixing lunch.
Oh, that's rich! Have you ever given any thought to what I do? Come off your high horse some day and follow me around.
I know you're busy. All the time, you're busy. But it's your choice. The teachers and I, we just think you'd benefit from taking part in the conversation.
I hear bits of those conversations while I'm working. And I have to say I am unimpressed. High-flown ideas that mean nothing. Purely analytical discussion with no grounding at all. That's not for me.
I'm a bit insulted that you're so dismissive of our work, Martha.
And you aren't being insulting when you question my choices? Answer me this, sister dear. How long do you think your beloved teachers would hang around if it weren't for my cooking and my cleaning and my running to the basement to launder their smalls? Things would fall apart pretty fast if these geniuses had to fend for themselves, don't you think?
I think I know why you're so testy. I think it's because someone made a comment at lunch yesterday about leftovers. Is that why you're so worked up?
So what? There's no extra money around here, and the one doing the cooking (that's me) is hard pressed to feed that shiftless group. So sometimes you get leftovers for lunch. No need for nasty digs at someone just doing her best.
That's partly my point. It is your job simply because you have chosen it. You choose to do the cooking. I'm saying you could have chosen—you could still choose—to be better than that.
"Better", is it? Well, my point is that someone has to feed you lazy pretentious louts who sit around pontificating out your posteriors and then criticize the hands that feed you.
Martha, this is an old, old argument we're having.
You're telling me. And the argument continues because you never, ever get what I've been saying. The more modern the times get, Mary, the less you understand me. The world would benefit from more, not less, groundedness. Drink water. Put your feet on the ground. Get your head out of your navel, or the sky, or wherever it is you spout from. Try being real for a change. Try cooking a meal. Or, if you think you're too good to do that, then at least let me do my work—my work—in peace.
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