You know, all I wanted to do yesterday was mow the lawn.  And I was done, and I was closing the side door, and the fucking thing pulled itself from the hinges and fell.  Great.

I thought I had to stay and help My Father fix it, which meant that I would've had to cancel my horse racing trip with my friend, but My Fucking Father was too damn lazy to do it then.  Instead, he was in scary-quiet, inquisitive, judging mode, asking me if I was going to go back to school or not.  Fucking scary.

And the bad thing about not fixing the door that afternoon was he'd probably do it the next morning -- this morning.  I had a long day in the sun at the horsetrack, so I was tired.  Plus, I forgot my laptop in the trunk of my car.  Seeing that as a sign, I thought it best to just go to sleep early, which I did around 1.

When I woke up just before 10, I didn't hear any banging on the door, no yelling from outside from My Fucking Father.  He's not here to fix the door.  He's not here, period.  Where the fuck is he?  And if he's not here, what did I go to sleep early for?