Maybe this only bothers me because I’m a programmer. For programmers, “It’s either a 0 or a 1.??? The lights are either on or off. Things are either right or wrong. Or perhaps it’s because I’m an only child. There are lots of editorials on the Internet that seem to blame people’s behavior on that sort of thing. Perhaps I’m just some sort of a twerp who doesn’t understand how the world works.

A few months ago a friend, whilst listening to my complaints about minor domestic issues, suggested that I just “Lie About It.??? She is of Greek extraction, and therefore far more sophisticated than I in interpersonal matters. I was at the end of my tether, so I gave it a go little realizing that it would be so successful that I am now awash in a sea of falsehoods.

My aged mother likes to wash clothes. As the years have passed she has not grown less competent in this task so much as more erratic. In some operations she has become flamboyantly unsuccessful. Now we’re not talking about simple laundry adventures here. It’s not just red socks in with the whites, or bleach in with the cashmere sweaters. It’s the completely inexplicable, and yet completely predictable flooding of the garage where the washing machine is located every single time she washes any size volume of clothing. As may be easily imagined, this is very bad for all the non-waterproof items stored immediately downhill from the washing machine. Taking my friends advice, I unplugged the washing machine. Mum has yet to discover what is wrong with the appliance, and why it is that now only I seem to have the necessary technological skill to run a load of laundry. This bit of covert sabotage, “Lying??? if you will, has resulted in;
1.) I am repeatedly berated for my laziness and worthlessness, in this case because of my inability to ‘fix’ the washing machine. So in essence no change there from my daily routine.
2.) The laundry is no longer ruined, and mum’s steamer trunk, and my tax records, are no longer flooded on a regular basis.

So, from a programmer’s standpoint, this is a “1??? The operation is a success, despite the otherwise unsavory issue of deliberately misleading a trusting parent.

Having succeeded with laundry I moved on to the subject of bathrobes. Previously there had been a great deal of confusion over bathrobes. There used to be a new and lovely, soft and warm pink bathrobe received as a Christmas gift last year. There was also a not so nice, thin and not nearly so warm, much older, pink bathrobe from the 1990’s. And there was the very old, very thin, threadbare, blue and yellow item left over from the 1980’s. The mere existence of a choice over bathrobes seemed to engender not only angst, but also a great deal of confusion. Repeated advice along the lines of, “That’s not the new bathrobe. The new bathrobe is more fluffy and comfortable than that.??? or, “No, that’s not the new bathrobe. The new bathrobe is pink. That one is yellow with blue stripes.??? didn’t really seem to be much help. So one day I stole all the bathrobes except the new one and gave them to the Salvation Army. There was a brief period of Stalinist revisionism on the subject, in which I had to deny the very existence of any bathrobes other than the new, fluffy, pink one, but after a few weeks everything seemed to settle down. So aside from an uncomfortable feeling that I was now working for The Ministry of Truth (“The chocolate ration has been increased. There never were any other bathrobes.) lying seemed to be working here as well.

Finally I applied the technique to luncheon, or more accurately to the preparation of TV dinners. Mum likes Healthy Choice TV dinners. More accurately, mum will eat Healthy Choice TV dinners, and complains less about them than other foods. However, even these frozen delicacies have a problem with the included desert. She loves the ‘Cranberry, Mystery, Fruit Compot,’ but can’t stand the other deserts. This is odd, because it means she rejects the ‘Peach Cobbler Thing,’ and yet loves peach cobbler. She loathes the ‘Apple Crumble Thing,’ and yet wolfs down apple pie. A prolonged period of investigation, in which I made inquiries as to just what was wrong with the deserts and was berated for “Asking a lot of damn fool questions,??? unearthed the surprising revelation that the offending deserts were bad because they weren’t red like the good ones.

So now when I’m micro waving a lunch I check the box art. If the desert isn’t red I remove a small bottle of food coloring from the cupboard and furtively add it to the offending item. Mum has yet to notice that the various deserts taste different. She has noticed that the frozen food companies seem to be packing the good colored deserts more frequently.

Yes, the new strategy appears to be a rousing success. And yet I suffer from the same sort of unease as when you tell the trusting family dog that he’s going for a car ride, and take him to the vet instead.