Came home around 1:30 tonight.  My excuse is I was covering the NCAA men's ice hockey championship (won, by the way, by Minnesota-Duluth, in overtime, over Michigan, 3-2).  I just wanted to stay out.
With me working evenings, I haven't spoken much to my 'Rents.  Which I think is a good thing.  But as I was in the bathroom taking a shit, I heard My Fucking Father stomp his feet while going up the stairs and then throw things around in the kitchen.  I've never heard him sounds so brattily, but he is the kind of guy who'll repress things and passive-aggressively get across his displeasure and wounded ego without coming out and saying it.

What's going to happen tomorrow?  If something goes down, I'll let y'all know.