i'm going to leave work now to go meet my mother at the MFA, where i can cry on her shoulder and reminisce about eating my dead grandmother's chicken soup using the footstool as a little table while watching The Price is Right, being sick in bed with chicken pox and drawing a picture of my mother that says I LOVE YOU MOMMY using the footstool as a lapdesk, upending the footstool to use as a robot shield against toby's flying fists, oh, what other memories will be dredged up by this robbery DARE I SAY RAPE?