So I go downstairs to grab a Pepsi.  I peer down; no light from the computer room, so I figure My Fucking Father isn't on the computer.  So I go down and see light coming from under the bathroom door.  Ah, so that's where he is!

Get my Pepsi from the fridge and head to the stairs.  Don't come out while I'm about to cross your path, please?  Well, goddammit, I hear the door open just as I get to the landing and head up the second set of stairs.  I play this passive-aggressive game of avoidance and disgust, he plays the passive-aggressive game of confrontation and intimidation.  I know it, he knows it, I know he knows, he knows I know.  So I continue to play and loudly bound up the stairs two at a time.

Later tonight I hear him come up to the kitchen twice, but not knock on my door to give me food or yell at me for some shit or something.  Did he want me to come out so he can ambush me?  I wanted to put the house phone back, but I didn't.  Did I embarrass him?

Fuck it, I just remembered all the bad shit he's done to me in the past, so now I don't feel so guilty anymore.