A Father's Day Dilemma

Uh, Happy Father's Day and all that shit.

So, anyway, I went to sleep at 1 and woke up at 8:30 -- full night's rest, which is good.  I woke up knowing what today was, and for the past several days I thought, to "honor" My Fucking Father, I would mow the lawn.  But should I?

See, I am not sure if the grass is high enough it to be mowed.  Now, there are a ton of things back-and-forth about whether or not to mow.  I have heard that even if it's not that high, you should mow it anyway because it helps "train" the grass and will make it stronger.  But my decision on whether or not to do it falls, as it always does, on how My Fucking Father will think.  On the one hand, I thought about doing it because he might like the gesture, since it's Father's Day and all.  But on the other hand I can see him coming back and complaining that it wasn't that necessary because the grass wasn't that tall, and all I'm doing is wasting gas.

My parents awoke; Mother actually called me when I was using the shitter that they were going out for a walk, and if you're going to leave, remember to set the alarm.  So basically, if I could avoid mowing the lawn, they gave me that chance.  I get out of the bathroom and look at both lawns.  The backyard's grass isn't too long, but it is long, and you could see a difference if it was mowed.  Same thing with the front yard with one notable exception.  There is a quadrant of grass that is not protected by shade from the trees or the house most of the day, therefore it is perpetually dried out.  That area is very low, and there really is no need to mow that part.  If that part doesn't need to be mowed, then should I mow any of it, at least until it grows a little bit taller?  And at this point I hear My Fucking Father's nagging voice -- "That's unnecessary, son.  Now are you going back to school yet?"

Fine.  I took off, for Five Watt Coffee, to see all the hot female talent.  That's where I'm writing this.  My Fucking Father can decide when it needs to be mowed.  He has all day, every day, to mow it.  Not my decision, and that's fine by me.  I'll feign going back to school to make up for it.  That'll please him.

Now I'll come home this afternoon and see that he mowed the lawn.  Fuck.

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Have you Googled today?  For Father's Day the second "O" is replaced with short animations of father animals interacting their children; the vignette ends with a son dropping onto the shoulders of his dad, and his dad grabs and embraces him.  Very tender, very sweet.  And I don't remember many times, if any time, My Father and I interacted like that.  And I don't remember the last time I had feelings towards him like the feelings invoked by the Google Doodle.

I like to think it's his fault.  Could it be mine?