I've finally realized why I am not big on small talk.

This morning I took my mother to pick up her car from the shop. It's about a ten minute drive from here (being home) to there (being the automobile repair place). My mother talks a lot. I mean ... a LOT. And it's not like she's discussing anything of great importance. She's just talking. It's like she is a verbal litterbug. There should be a law against it. Talk too much and get a $500 fine.

I (stupidly) mentioned that I was going to take a different route, but I had only gone that way once, so I wanted to make sure I didn't miss the turn. This is when she started in with a very long ramble about how she knew where the turn was, and why she knew where the turn was, and yep, there is the turn, and see, I knew that was it, because of this and this and this.

I'm not sure why this bothers me. I guess there are a lot of people out there that might enjoy listening to someone (especially their mother) talk about nothing at all and fill up empty space with useless words that seems to hang in the air and eat away the oxygen.

But not me. Give me silence, give me the music from my CDs, give my my children's contagious laughter, but please -- oh please -- do not give me a five minute monologue about the weather or the traffic or even the construction. I beg of you.

No comments:

Post a Comment