turning into my mother

So I’m sat on the sofa slouching into my triple chin after munching the homemade pizzas my boyfriend insisted we create for our Friday night lockdown fun. He’s been living with me and my mother for the past two months and although it’s lovely, I wonder if I need to ask AGAIN for him not to leave his wet morning shower towel on my white seersucker bedding each morning (in a folded up neat square?!) I mean who does that, it takes one second to hang it up in the bathroom. Am I turning into my mother? I wonder sometimes. It’s been 5 months since I’ve had to log onto that CRM system at work and I’m absolutely loving my days to myself. But I am kinda driving myself insane with incy wincy little problemos that keep popping up inside my membrane. Hope your all good, think I’ll go in for the last slice of pie tasting pizza base meat ball Mariana that’s waiting for me. Cheers all!!