Another instance of miscommunication again tonight, right around dinnertime, right around the time I was leaving to work out. Grandmother thought my parents were running late. As told my Grandmother I was leaving, and I should've told her earlier, because she responded by saying: "You are? My God, so that's why they're late!" (I recently found out that if I'm not going to be home for dinner, my parents don't cook at home; instead they bring Burger King home. No other place, just BK, without fail. I see the bags and trash when I come home. Funny.)
She started to make rice in anticipation of them coming home to make dinner. "Now I have too much food I'm cooking," Grandmother said. Man, I forgot to tell her I wasn't eating tonight. Dammit.
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Came home around midnight. Went downstairs to check and see if the modem was plugged in.
Just as I saw that it was, I heard the master bedroom door open. It was Father, groggy and limping from another hard day at work and a long rest in his bed, saying to me, "Are you OK? OK, OK, OK" as he walked into the bathroom.
Later, when I was in the bathroom, I heard this loud lurching up the stairs. Father, getting a late-night snack. I always hate situations like these because, invariably, when I try to cross him at the dinner table he asks me for something. Really bad, bad memories about this.
But he was too busy chomping loudly on food opened loudly to notice me, I guess. That or he was hungry. Father didn't talk to me while I passed him. Hopefully he isn't suppressing his anger at me coming home so late from exercising. Never know with him.
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