I hate my mother. I really do. I was awoken today from a pounding on my door. My mother, who had just awoken me, asks me in her usual angry tone if I was awake. Upon seeing me flounder on my bed from the ruckus, she proceeds to stomp off in a huff. I groggily got dressed to see what I had done wrong this time (since I always do something wrong). I followed her outside and she proceeded to tell me, while looking like I had crossed her for the last time, that she wanted me to clean off the porch. A perfectly reasonable request that my mother had to turn into a s**t load of drama. I hate her.