Desperately seeking approval

My Mum came around to take a look at my flat today. I'll confess to experiencing something more than mild trepidation. I really wanted her to like it for some reason - this despite the fact that we have very differing tastes. In theory, it shouldn't have made any difference to my feelings - after all, I like and that's the beginning and end of that particular story. Do we ever stop craving parental approval?

And in the end I think I managed to score pretty highly - the kitchen was singled out for praise (as well, as a comment that she was concerned I might not have made a good job of it. Hah!), and she only had one negative comment, disliking as she did my horribly expensive bathroom tiles. Even then she confessed that she doesn't like matt tiles, whereas I hold a particular ambivalence - occasionally verging on downright loathing - towards glossy tiles. Vive la difference!

Oh, and in my continuing - and wholly uncalculated, honest - attempt to be a good neighbour I helped move a bookcase and found their lost cat today. I feel like should be receiving gold stars...