all about my mother

i am into my second cup of caffeine dose and the world already seems to be a better, shinier place. my mother is here, so i have been answering about 6 questions every second minute.
my god, the woman asks far too many questions.
she has not yet begun poking into every corner of the house and giving her opinion stridently about what she thinks is a better way of doing what i am most happy and snug doing the way i like it.
but whatever little that she has poked into has already met with her cynosure.
but all said and done, it is nice to have another person around the house, while the husband gallivants in distant shores and goes about buying boys' toys.
i am beginning to notice with some alarm that as i grow older i become more and more like my mother. i am as anxious as she is about everything, i am also as careful with money as she is, i too have a penchant for bags (but large, pendulous, jhola type ones, or satchels, not the rexiny, boxy kind that she likes).
i like almost everything that she positively detests. when we go out to buy clothes, she picks up the most ugly, discordant and wierd salwaar kameez things, or diaphanous tops with prints as large as elephants, and tells me how nice they will look on me...
she likes plastic bags and i gag at the sight of one. but we both like plastic dabbas and always contemplate buying some everytime we visit a store. she hates plants and i would be happiest if i lived in a glass house or a botanical garden.
we also get on each other's nerves like diabetic pachyderms walking on crunchy paapads.
appa usually tears his hair out in despair when we start bickering and arguing about something. so he flips and takes sides with my mother for seven seconds and then flips around and takes sides with me for five. my brother i suppose is the only person who can charm or tease her into most things.
she is a formidable woman and her dialogue delivery is straight up rajnikanth's league.
it is rather strange but we are as different from one another as we are alike.