Conversation With My Mother, The Converted Jew

I was having a conversation with my mom earlier today, when the topic of moving my stuff for my curio cabinet came up.  It was her opinion that maybe I shouldn’t have that stuff in my apartment in case it gets robbed.  Well, what’s the point of having this stuff if you never use it?
 Besides, I highly doubt that any thieves in the area are going to care that I have Hoya wine glasses and the peony pattern I selected has since been discontinued, so it might be worth something to a desperate bride who dropped one in the sink.  They’re going to care more about anything that a pawn shop will buy for cash.  As we were talking, she says “Besides, you probably don’t have insurance.”.  Um...  Hold up.  You’re saying this to your paranoid daughter, who used to work for an insurance agent, and who knows you get a discount with multiple policies AND renter’s insurance is stupid cheap?  Hello.  Had it a week before I moved!  Yeesh.  I mean, come on!  Isn’t that like the holy Jewish Retail Trinity; knowing a guy, having done it for a living, AND getting a discount?  I might love me some bacon, but I learned that much in Hebrew school.


In the end, you’ll be happy to know that my mom is allowing me, her 34 year old daughter, to have her “nice stuff stuff” in her apartment since now it’s replaceable.  *shakes head*