Snapshots From A Holiday Visit From My Sister And Brother-In-Law (II)

That look in his eyes, that combination of woundedness and bitterness ... that encapsulates My Fucking Father.  And I know I have inherited and/or learned this from him, because I have done this to others, and I have it inside me.  But yet, that face. ...

It was Thursday, a day before my sister and brother-in-law were supposed to come.  This was the same day I forgot to make the deposit for Mother.  I also forgot that Father wanted me to clean the chairs.  Who cleans chairs?  Anyway, at that instant he told me, I thought to myself that I could do it Friday afternoon, before they came over.

I still was feeling shitty over forgetting the deposit, but we got done with dinner early enough that I thought I would just work out my stress by working out.  So I put on my coat (didn't put on my pajamas yet) and brought my gloves and hat with the intention of leaving.

But ... there's this tablecloth Father wanted me to buy.  It was for the table that we were going to extend to accomodate my sister and brother-in-law.  The tablecloth we have isn't long enough for the longer table, so I went to Target Thursday to get it.  I thought we could put it on Friday afternoon, while I wash the chairs, but ... something told me I should just get it now, before I leave, just in case Father wanted to put in on now.

I go into the kitchen.  Like he had eyes on the back of his head, he turns right as I enter.  I actually wanted to say to him, "I'm going to work out."  But Father may have been angry.  And ... he gave me that look.  That fucking look.

So I said, "I'm going outside to get the tablecloth."

That look stayed with me as I went outside.  And I just got madder and madder at myself.  I need to martyr myself to keep the peace again.  Couldn't work out my stress by working out.  So when I come back inside with the tablecloth, I slammed down my coat.  I know what I fuckin' have to do.

I go downstairs to get a rag and pail and fill the pail up with water.  I go to the bathroom to grab some cleaner and pour the bleach into the pail.  And I fucking start cleaning the chairs no one will notice are dirty.

It took me an hour to do all that shit.  And I was right about My Fucking Father secretly wanting me to do what he fucking wanted tonight (he probably wanted me to do that afternoon, even though I was "working") because after he was done washing the dishes he was enthusiastically helping out with cleaning the rest of the dining room.  Held my temper through all of it, but I couldn't wait to get to the gym.

I haven't been able to work out as much these past few weeks.  Dinner running late, stupid chores, helping out my parents on the Internet, waiting for my bowel movement ... I'm now coming in and starting around 8:30, a half-hour later than I usually want to begin.  It's not worth it if I'm starting that late.

Besides, that night everybody was working out at the gym.  People are getting a head start on exercising as a New Year's Resolution.

To make up for that hour I spent doing chores, I went to my late-night hangout and ate some more.

And besides, my sister and brother-in-law's flight in Europe was cancelled; she texted me late night Thursday night.  More on this later.  I had Friday afternoon to do it, and I had Friday evening to do it, too.