I'm continuing to work on a piece when the Internet connection cuts off.  I want to go downstairs but I see a dim light from the basement, meaning My Father's downstairs, awake, quietly seething that the modem doesn't work.

This is 1:30 in the morning.  Should I go down there, acting like I need to do some writing, the research for which I need the Internet for?  No.  Too afraid of him bitching about the modem, which he'll use as a jumping-off point for telling me I should go back to school now that my birthday's this week and I'm turning -- whoa, 35?!

So instead, I wait.  Had some sheets I needed to read over and fill out a quiz for.  I decided that after that, if I came out and still saw he was there, and then, when I turned on my computer and it was still not working, I'd call it a night writing.

A half-hour later, I come out and see there is darkness downstairs.  I don't care if My Fucking Father could hear me trundling down the stairs to unplug and replug the modem after he went to bed.  I don't need his shit tonight.

Since I'm typing this, obviously that did the trick.