HOT BUTTON

She had not felt well for several days. It wasn’t anything specific that she could put a name to, she’d just felt generally blah and had no energy. Bill offered to do the grocery shopping. She fixed a cup of peppermint tea, hoping that might perk her up, and was sitting at the table with it when he carried in the first sack and set it on the table. As he returned to the car to bring the rest in, she listlessly began to remove items from the sack, but stopped with the second item, and stared at it in horror. When Bill returned to the kitchen he found her with her head in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Annie, honey, what’s wrong?”
“How could you?” she sobbed.
“What, what did I do?”
“You think I’m old!” Punctuated with more gulping sobs she continued, “I’m not old, I’m not! I’m not my mother, I‘m not my grandma!”
“Honey, what are you talking about?”
As she got up and began moving towards the bedroom, she screamed, through more sobs, “Just leave me alone!” and slammed the bedroom door behind her.
Bill followed and started to enter the bedroom, but backed away when the screaming and sobbing continued, accompanied by small objects from the nightstand being thrown at him.
She continued to sob for some time, and finally fell asleep. When she woke a couple of hours later, she washed her face and made a feeble attempt at brushing her hair into some semblance of order, then walked to the living room where Bill was watching TV. As soon as he saw her, he hit the mute button.
“Annie, are you OK?”
She was feeling a little sheepish now, and quietly said, “Yes.”
“Annie, what did I do?”
“It was the cereal.”
“The cereal?”
“Well, kind of. It was more my mom and grandma.” When he just stared at her she continued.
“They were both obsessed with getting fiber in their diet, and were forever talking about how it became even more important as you get old. And you brought home a box of fiber cereal.”