So My Father wanted me to sign up for Antiques Roadshow because it's hitting town this summer and he has a bunch of painting he wants appraised for free.  I wanted to see Chuck, but that, along with a letter Mother wanted me to scan and send to my sister, plus the fact that I spent the first third of the hour taking a shit, and that was out the window.  I'd be spending it tending to family Internet business, and then some more time dinkin' around the Internet after that.

I scan and send and sign up.  While surfing, I think I hear someone try to turn the doorknob.  I pause and turn around.  It was really soft, subtle and quick, so I really thought I was hearing things.  But My Father wanted me to do something and there's a chance he wanted to bother me about something before going to the bathroom to pee.  Then again, I kept waiting for him, or for Mother (if that's who it was) to check the knob again or knock.  No answer.

My attention has already been ripped away from the computer, so I might as well check.  I slowly roll the chair to the door, then slowly get up and toward it.  I then open, sort of thinking that I should peek around the corner in case the bathroom light was open; Father might've given up waiting for me to open the door and would just holler from the toilet.  But the hallway was dark, and there was no light emanating from the bathroom.

I slowly turn my eyes from the left to the center of the hallway, and like an apparition, this image conjured itself from nothingness.  And when I looked up, it was My Father.  He was standing there the whole time.  So I reacted how anybody would: I screamed.  And usually after I scream or otherwise act in a way he thinks is unbecoming, My Fucking Father would start talking about what he wanted to talk about, react to my screaming, and say something like "What are you screaming for?"

And after a long stretch where he was being civil to me, Father turned into My Fucking Father again.  "Because you startled me!"  And after I complained, "Why didn't you knock again?  You were just standing there!" My Fucking Father got all petulant again.  He had something to say to me, but he didn't want to say anything anymore because his wittle feewings got hurt: "Nothing!  Nothing now!"

I learned some time ago not to enable his juvenile behavior by chasing him down and asking what he wanted to say.  I did that, and I give him the satisfaction of being right.  So whatever he wanted to say to me, I don't know.  It probably's about the Antiques Roadshow registration, but honestly, I don't give a shit.

You know, I might have acted weird to both my parents tonight.  After coming home from dumping the trash in their minivan, I locked the door only to be sort of startled by Mother, who got back to what she indicated last night and showed me the letter she wanted me to scan and send to my sister; I screamed, to which she asked, "What's the matter with you?"

Also, I was in the bathroom taking the aforementioned shit when Mother called me from the basement.  So I was kind of hurried when I went down to the master bedroom when My Fucking Father made his request while lying in his bed, even though he couldn't provide me with even a web address to register.  After being left to fend for myself -- another case where he told me to do something without giving me any fucking help -- Mother intercepts me.  She offers oranges; I was stuffed from eating two ham sandwiches and a bagel in the past three hours, then having two pieces of chicken for dinner when I usually would have a lot more, and she's offering oranges?  I openly conveyed my being overwhelmed when I indicated I didn't know.  She said no pressure, and before I could tell her I'd have one, My Fucking Father yelled from his prone throne that he found a website.

So I wasn't having the easiest time communicating with the 'Rents tonight.  Maybe my run-in with My Fucking Father had a path leading up to it.  Now I have to be afraid of what payback he has in store for me.