The next morning you awake to the sound of clicking heels. She comes in your room and screams at you that she couldn't find her foot rest and tells you she needs to type up a document for work and needs her footrest. You hate to be defined as her footrest but know it's your life till she can find her old one. So you walk into the office and take you spot under the desk. Your mother removes her shoes and plants her feet on her face. Does she treat you like a footrest or foot slave