On May 13, like a dutiful daughter, I called my mother to wish her a Happy Mother's Day.
We yakked on for about an hour and a half before hanging up.
It was only after we hung up and I set the phone aside that I realized with a mix of horror and amusement that I had completed the first half of "The Mother's Curse."
All women know what "The Mother's Curse" is. At some point in our lives we all get the comment, "You're just like your mother."
This is the first half of the curse.
The second and more commonly heard half of the curse is, "I hope when you get older that you have a child just like you."
When I set down the phone that Sunday, I realized that while I had been talking with my mother, I had cleaned most of the house.
It started in the kitchen with emptying out the dishwasher and escalated to scrubbing out the sinks in the bathroom. I think the only thing I didn't do while talking on the phone was vacuum and that was because it would have been too noisy.
The incessant need to clean something is part of the first half of "The Mother's Curse."
I plunked myself down in a chair determined to take it easy for the rest of the day.
Um, yeah, that lasted all of about five minutes before I pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the closet.
I have to admit I'm not completely like my mother. She doesn't vacuum, scrub sinks and do laundry with headphones on.
I also don't get down on my hands and knees every time I scrub the kitchen and bathroom floors.
I don't find it necessary to vacuum every day and move the furniture every time I vacuum. But that's just me.
I've already succumbed to the urge to move large, heavy pieces of furniture on my own. I've rearranged the living room once. I'm eyeing the master bedroom furniture next.
I haven't qualified for the second part of "The Mother's Curse." I don't have a child yet. However, I've already started training for it with my poor boyfriend.
I find myself overstocking the refrigerator with green leafy things, vegetables and other nutritious foods I would never have eaten as a child.
I also find myself scolding my poor boyfriend when he wants to enjoy a nice, juicy hamburger.
I find myself desperately trying to resist the urge to scoop up all of my boyfriend's stuff off the kitchen table and deposit in the office, garage, bedroom and other areas where it belongs.
And I've become the finder-of-things-that-belong-to-other-people.
I know where more of my boyfriend's stuff is than I do of my own. This weekend, my boyfriend asked me in the space of less than half an hour if I had seen where his shoes, keys, phone, wallet and other accessories were.
The sad thing was I knew the location of all of the items and could point them out immediately.
None of this stuff would have bothered me that much a few years ago when I still lived with my parents.
The bad news is that scientists have not yet found a cure to "The Mother's Curse."
The only thing we can do is admit that we have the disease and succumb to its urges.
Kind of like the same way we give in to our boyfriends' and husbands' urges to buy power tools and fix things.