At Least I Know It's Genetic

On Saturday, we had dinner at my parents' house. While my mom doesn't really like food, she does try to cook for at least my dad and me when we eat. That night, we had a beef thing from Trader Joe's and rice that she made. Or sorta made.

For whatever reason, the rice didn't turn out for her "the way it normally does" - or so she claimed. When the buzzer went off, the rice was still semi-hard and plenty of water remained. She turned the stove back on, and eventually served us the mostly cooked and only slightly watery rice.

After dinner, she was clearing the table and nearly slipped on an ice cube. Once she'd set those dishes in the dishwasher, she came back to pick up the escapee.

Oh, this isn't an ice cube! she exclaimed. This is one of the lenses to my glasses. I think.

She pulled her glasses from where they were tucked into her sweater and peered at them. Huh, one of my lenses did fall out. No wonder everything's been so blurry tonight. I knew there had to be a reason I couldn't read the instructions on the rice.

Ahem.

Apparently it truly is genetic. And it only gets worse. Oh the things I have to look forward to!