Move? What the hell are you talking about?

Damn you mother!
Last night, having spent a good portion of the evening enjoying woman stuff, you know, bath, deep conditioning hair masque, tweezering, painting, pore cleansing, facial mask, pouring wine, settling on couch, you know what I mean, I was foolish enough to take a call, only for me to hear-quelle horror!- the not so dulcet tone of my mother on the other end.
'Mummff' I said, lest the teatree face pack crack. 'Camp calp yue back?'
'Why?' She said, sounding all suspicious. She always sounds suspicious when people don't automatically yabber on phones like she does. 'What are you up to?'
'Facst patt.'
''Harumph,' she said, and proceeded to talk. On and on, bitching about this and that, her hanging baskets that were nowhere near as good as last years, about Etheline-who had been clever enough not to answer- my brother, his wife, all and sundry, telling me about local dead folk ( 'they die in threes you know') about some mysterious pain in her arm (cancer of the arm) and a pain she had in her lower back ( hernia or cancer of the back) and some blinding headache she got when she bent to open the washing machine ( brain cancer) and how her dog was doing very well going to the faith healer and what sort of children had she raised that we would be so bereft of faith and we needn't think she didn't know that we laughed at her behind her back and did I know that 'that one' across the road had a new car and thought she was a 'great one' tearing up and down at all hours and her, mutton dressed up as lamb, she needn't think she was fooling anyone and she...
Anyway it went on and one, after a while my mind was a numb as my face and I had given up trying to drink my wine with a straw. I lay on my back, trying to lip read what Frasier was saying to Niles.
Suddenly I heard '...sure you'll be moving now soon anyway and-'
'Mummmffinn?' I shot up, ' No I wonn.'
'Of course you will. ' My mother said, 'sure you're engaged aren't you? I'm sure you'll be moving in together and I can't see himself moving in there with you, why would he, not when he has that nice house, where did he say it was again?'
'Rathgar.' I said, perfectly. Odd.
'Well then.' She said sniffly. 'You're hardly going to stay in your f'lat'.
'Apartment.' I heard myself correct her for the one millionth time. But my heart wasn't in it.
My mind now whirrled and twirrled. Now hold on a minute. Either I am a comlete moron or I am a total idiot. But the thoughts of leaving this...this haven of mine never even entered my head. I looked around wildly. Look, my wallpaper, my book shelves, the sofas, my desk that had taken four men to lift in, the pictures. What was this horrible woman suggesting? Leave? leave? Was she mad?
Anyway I finally got the wench off the phone by promising I would go curtain shopping with her on saturday. I raced off to the bathroom and splashed my face and worked the mask off. Patted it dry, never smear. Then I poured myself a large drink and rang the p-my fiancé.
'Do you think we should move in together!?' I shouted at him when he answered the phone.
'Why are you shouting?' he said tiredly.
'Sorry, sorry, my mother...I, she...well, wait, do you think we should move ...you know in together?'
'Of course, don't you?'
'I, well... sure, but , you know, when? And also, where?'
There was a very long pause that I didn't like, and then. 'Well, I thought soon, and I thought here. You know, it's bigger and there's parking and...'
'What's wrong with here?'
'Nothing. Why are acting all crazy like this?'
'I don't know, ' I said miserably, 'I just never... I swear, it didn't even occurr to me about moving.'
'Well, ' he was laughing slightly, 'when we get married, don't you see us living together?'
'Woody Allen and Mia Farrow didn't. He kept his place and she kept hers.'
'Oh yeah, and look how well that turned out.'
'I know, stupid example.'
'Look Cat, stop worrying, you like it here.'
'I like it here too.'
'Look, ' He sighed then. 'Can we talk about this tomorrow? I've got a very early apointment.'
'Oh sure, sorry.'
'That's okay, look we'll go for a drink tomorrow after work, talk about it then, alright?'
'Okay.'
We said goodnight and rung off. The bigger of the cats hopped onto the sofa-where one corner has been all but destroyed by claw sharpening- and headbutted me in the (smooth) cheek. Ouch.
'Would you like a garden?' I asked him. 'You could probably kill things again.'
'Marp.' he said.
Yes, fucking marp indeed.

UPDATE ON YESTERDAY'S POST: As I mentioned ysterday, some of what I feared about the new supreme curt ruling is already starting to take place. Seven men, already jailed for statutory rape, are to have their convictions over-turned and are to be released. The flood gates are opening on this one already.
See, flood gates are alreay starting to open.