DON'T REMIND ME THAT THE STORE IS CLOSING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Right now The Store is in a limbo state.  That duality is depicted by my parents putting the open/close sign at the front door right in the middle.

I have been very fortunate, blessed even, that they have still gone to The Store even though they have largely shut many operations down.  I don't know what the hell they do out there, but they do something, and that means that they are out of the house and out of my hair -- well, whenever My Fucking Father doesn't wake me up.

There is still activity.  A couple weeks ago I had to pick up some goods for Mother and drop them off at The Store.  Twice since I had to drop by there, too.  Each time I did my usual OCD pattern of going up and down each of the three aisles, so I would criss-cross the old place six times.  There was no one there and the lights were turned off, but to me it still felt like The Store of old.  Before those times it had been at least a couple months since I saw it, and so I am glad that obligations took me to her.  And even though it's in a quasi-state, I still can say to myself, with only minimal self-delusion, that The Store is still open.

But yet I avoid questions about when it will end.  As I had feared, my sister and brother-in-law asked about its closing; despite me wanting to put my fingers in my ears and go "blah-blah-blah jedi mind tricks!!!" I heard something to the effect of, "soon."  Oh, and Mother invited my brother-in-law to take anything from The Store he wants, "because this time next year, no more."

And then there's tonight, when I came home from "work" (actually watching a free screening of Hit & Run, Dax Shepard's labor of love with a friend.  Quick review: It's a ramshackle, shaggy-dog car chase movie.  Story kind of lopes along, but it's funny and smart enough.  Tom Arnold puts in his second surprisingly memorable performance, years after True Lies).  Got called downstairs because Mother wanted to know if I e-mailed their Vegas condo's management company to change their mailing address.  Like he sometimes does, My Fucking Father believes it necessary to explain the entire backstory to me when they need something.  In this case it's the reason why they need me to get the address changed: "Because The Store is closing."

I paused to choke back what I really wanted to say, which was, "I know!" in that same whiny voice My Fucking Father always gives me.  I then, after taking a deep breath, calmly said, "I don't need to be reminded of that," to which I detected a wave of umbrage forming on My Fucking Father's face.

I don't know if they know how hard I'm taking its death, but they might have understood then.

I need to take each day The Store is "open" as a blessing.  But looking at the glass half-empty, it, and I, are living on borrowed time.