When I get into the house, I only see Mother. Father's still asleep, so the plan is to stick around until he wakes up, take him to The Store, do this delivery and then go back home to sleep. That's fine; with things winding down and him already in retirement mode, I'll just have to stick around.
Because the fucking Internet is on the blink at the house again, I couldn't stay up and keep track of the porn like I wanted to. So I just laid down on my bed and waited until Father woke me up.
Fast-forward to 2:30. Shit. I have my excuse at the ready: I work nights. But I go out and see that the car is still out there. Father didn't take the spare? And then I look downstairs and see that his milk crate of food is still at the bottom step. He didn't go to work today?!?!?!
Initially I thought this was a huge problem. Then I realized: He doesn't care anymore. The delivery was supposed to be done Tuesday, but I couldn't go. He's thinking, Well, if it can't get done Tuesday, why do it today?
I call Mother, just in case. I get her voicemail. I leave a message but know she won't return it. Shit, she might not even listen to it. Has everyone just fucking quit?
A little later I hear footsteps. In case there has been a massive mistake and something still needs to be done at 3, I go outside. There's Father. He's asking me what my schedule's like ... no, he's yelling at me about what my schedule's like. Don't be an asshole, asshole. If you were up this morning, wake me up! Me sleeping never stopped you from doing that before. And if you were sleeping through the rain all day like me ... well, now I know where I get my weird circadian rhythms from.
Let's fucking do this again tomorrow. And let's hope everybody still gives a shit about working and The Store.
No comments:
Post a Comment