I am often told, "You're not my mother/father/legal guardian!" when I offer advice. For example, my roomie (one of my best friends in the world) is a total slacker. A week before a major paper was due, I asked if he had started it yet. The answer was no (but I hadn't either, so I didn't press it). The night before it was due, I was perched over my laptop, typing; he was watching a movie. I warned him that he wasn't going to write it on time. Long story short . . . he still hasn't written it and it was due two months ago . . . as in LAST SEMESTER. Our professor has been very nice, but his parents are furious that he still has an incomplete grade. I called him last night to ask him a question about our apartment (regarding where my missing pillow is) and I happened to ask him if he had started his paper yet. The answer was, "No . . . are you disappointed in me?" I was about to reply when I realized, "Oh, dear, I sound like my mother . . ." I often get that way when I talk to him and our ex-housemate Amaan about keeping the apartment clean . . . apparently, I'm the only one who knows how to wash dishes and do laundry . . . I have become my mother . . .