When I finally found our new house in Metairie, the conversation went something like this:
Me: "Mom ... why didn't you tell me we moved?"
Esther: " Sam, can you believe this? NOW he wants to communicate. Where was he when WE asked him things about HIS comings and goings?"
Me: "Mom ... I asked about our house."
Esther: "See this Sam ... see how he does this? Now it's OUR fault that he doesn't know."
Me: "It IS your fault. How else ..."
Esther: "Sam, are you going to LET him talk to us this way???"
Sam: "Wait a minute. Did we actually move?"
Esther hit him in the chest a few times and then she disappeared into her new closet where she spent the majority of her time, in those days.
Most who know my mom know that shopping was her lifelong quest. Whether or not we had any money in those days (which was usually "not") the shopping continued. The house in Metairie was about 2500 square feet. Esther's closet was 3000 square feet.
Sales people around the city knew her well and had her number on speed dial. She would not hesitate to order something sight unseen ... because she also had a "thing" about being confined in a store with .... other people.
Yes ... Esther was SLIGHTLY neurotic.