My mom worried about odd things. Wasting money on turquoise jewelry and dream-catchers, not so much. She instead worried about me sterilizing myself by sitting within 10 feet of the TV. Similarly, I wasn't allowed to use a remote control, lest its phaser beam ignite the curtains.
Mom was also a stickler for lint traps. You were to clean it both before and after running a load of laundry. The slightest residue would engulf the house in flames. This photograph, circulating amongst the tenants at my Pittsburgh apartment, would have made all the veins in Mom's head pop.
