Ageless mother-daughter cycle

Daughter#2 is staying with my mother for a fortnight. Grandmother feels it's her duty to give me (the mom of aforesaid guest) a detailed account of their day when I call to ask how they're faring. An excruciatingly detailed account. So detailed, in fact, that a handkerchief and duct tape come to mind. I shake my head to return to reality...

- Mom, when I ask "how are you" I don't mean every nitty-gritty detail.

- I'm not giving you e-v-e-r-y detail. Now what was I saying? Oh, yes, well then she took a nap, I think about 40 minutes and then she woke up. I asked her if she wanted some fruit for a snack. I had some melon but she asked for a peach. Well, I prepared both on a plate. The peach was a bit too ripe and the melon wasn't. We sat out on the veranda. You should see my plants. My green peppers are really beautiful and tasty. The tomatoes didn't do well this year. Then she wanted to watch television. She asked me if she could watch Xena or if I wanted to watch something else instead. I told her she could watch anything she wanted. She's such a polite girl. What is this Xena, by the way? She likes to watch television a lot, doesn't she? You really should try talking to her about it. Do you remember your cousin who watched a lot of TV? Why does she keep scratching those mosquito bites? The poor dear has terrible scars on her knees. You should tell her to be more careful and not scratch...[her voice fades in the background as I break bottle and prepare to slit my wrists from sheer boredom].

When we finally finish our "conversation", I'm massaging the blood back into my right earlobe and cerebral hemisphere and mumble, "Please shoot me if I do this at her age".

Daughter#1 is within earshot and responds, "Can we have that in writing?"

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