Weird fucking night tonight. Mother seems not be talking to My Fucking Father because she was giving him the silent treatment at dinner. He reacted by yelling for me to clean up the fucking stairs -- "Lazy ... always going back into his room," he muttered to himself -- but then he told me to stop when he went back upstairs to mop up the stairs. (For the record, the stairs are dirty. However, the contractors are working the downstairs bathroom, so I don't exactly know why the stairs are dirty. At any rate, My Fucking Father is going crazy with his cleaning OCD again.)
I had to blog about my car, and a Saturday Night Live special was on on Channel 11, and Channel 11 wasn't getting through in my bed, and yes, I wanted to ... I hate saying this word, but it's correct ... appease My Fucking Father and his wish to watch TV outside more, whatever the fuck that means, so I took my laptop out to the dining room to kind-of watch the Oscars there. And then My Fucking Father came up to talk to me real quick about his stocks. I thought he didn't want to talk to me. But it seems like, maybe, he wanted to get away with what's going on between him and Mother. After all, she did speak to me while My Fucking Mother was on one of his cleaning jags.
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Woke up by My Fucking Father this morning, a bit past 9:30 when I was truly in the middle of sleep. He just told me they were about to shut the water off. He wasn't angry at me that he "had to" wake me up, he was very calm. If being in trouble with Mother wasn't on his mind, maybe he'd be yelling at me. Who knows, maybe he'll yell at me tomorrow.
Said goodbye to Mother before leaving. Didn't see them talking to each other before I left.
I need to worry about my car instead of this shit. But I'll say this: I'll take Mother's side, at least for now.
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