He'd spent an hour trying to work up the nerve, and the words, necessary to confront his mother. If he'd taken an extra three hours, he still probably wouldn't be ready. Even if she wasn't the most stubborn person in the galaxy, just being his mother was enough to do it. She delighted in being a contrarian, or at least he thought as much. As much as he loved being able to see her for the first time in years, spending an entire month with your mother in the same convoy was...was...

Well, suffice to say, living with Sanis had cultivated an independent streak. And Sanis never asked him to do his laundry! By Sanjaara, the woman is seventy five, you'd think during any of those years she'd figure out how to do her own damn laundry. That was the final straw.

Of course he did the laundry. But only four times!

So here he stood, at his mother's makeshift quarters, arms full of well-creased and folded garments, still not quite sure how to broach the subject, when the door opened before he was ready, and the words just slipped out.

"Motherr, jI thjink jit'ss tjime jyou left the wheel."

He nearly blanched.