Whose arm is in my bed?

Today is one of those days where my mother and I clash on everything. Today she has decided that I am weird. The truth is, I'm weird everyday but most days she chooses to ignore it or accept it. Today is not one of those days. Today she has decided that I need to assimilate and learn how to make it in the world. Step 1: Learn how to cook more stuff. Because how will I please my husband if I only know how to make 5 things? (For the record, I do not have a husband) According to my mom, I need to expand my cooking horizons and so in order to please her I have made the attempt. The attempt resulted in undercooked chicken. I think I might get salmonella.

A day similar to this occurred about a month ago. While today my mom's outlook on her daughter was unexpected, that fateful Saturday, I brought it upon myself.

It started when I woke up. That entire week I was extremely tired so the night before I flopped onto my bed and fell asleep immediately with no regard to how I was laying down. In the morning I found myself sleeping across my bed horizontally which automatically left me disoriented.

I opened my eyes (keep in mind I was still very disoriented and half asleep) and saw an arm in my bed. At first, I was a little panicked. I was convinced it was not my arm and I had no idea whose arm it was. I was scared out of my mind. But this fear quickly turned into curiosity. I didn't care that I didn't know whose arm it was. I didn't care that a stranger's arm was in my bed. I didn't care that it was just an arm with no body attached to it. All I cared about was touching it. I wanted to touch that arm. I NEEDED to touch that arm. So I mustered up some energy and forced my right arm to touch it. I then began to panic because I had no idea where my left arm was. And 15 seconds later I realized that I was touching my left arm. I was relieved. I was still confused because I had no feeling in my left arm so I picked it up with my right arm and stared at it. I examined it for awhile and then decided it was normal so I let go of it. It turns out that I had slept on top of it and that's why there was no feeling in it. As a result, my arm was very heavy with dead weight. So when I let go, it smacked me in the face and I let out a stifled cry.

A cry that was heard by my mother who rushed to my room to see what had happened. When she got there my arm was still on top of my face and I explained to her what happened in what I thought was a calm voice of reason. I later found out that I groaned some more and yelled "There's an arm on my bed that hit my face!" I don't function well in the morning.

That entire day was devoted to teaching me how to make salsa and clean the house properly (not at the same time). My mother fears that I won't be able to function on my own. And with mornings like that, I can understand why.