With all the shit I need to do fucking tomorrow (call this, sign that, scan those, check the car, etc.), The Store did not cross my mind. But it did tonight.
For some fucking reason My Fucking Father knocked loudly on my door. He was looking at his smartphone and being quite impatient with this correspondence with this art museum he wants to donate his pieces to. And I'm going, I already e-mailed these people twice. Why don't you fucking hold your horses? I told them you were going to be out of town this past week; maybe they're waiting until this week to message you back?
But then I thought, Why are you trying to move these art pieces? And then I remembered that they wanted to take a road trip to Vegas. And they weren't going to do that until ... ahem ... they're "done" with The Store. And they can't be done with her until they move those art works. I think that's what he meant.
I've had the luxury of still seeing them go to "work," even if they're not really going to work. That might be gone soon -- both The Store and having the space to breathe because they're not at home 24/7. All of this might be going sideways on me, and very, very soon.
The kicker: While in his agitated state he forgot to shut the door he opened. I told him to shut it, only be told by him, "You should get up. You shouldn't be in bed watching TV." So you know what I did? Stayed on my bed and watched TV until I fell asleep. Take that, ya dumb asshole.
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