Did They Find Me Out?

So I'm leaving for "work" this morning, and while I'm putting on my shoes, My Fucking Father just so happens to come upstairs.  "Going to work?" he says.

"Yes," I replied, tersely, because it's the only way to talk to him, especially knowing what he might say and how I know he will act next.

"You're not going out to just sleep in your car?" he said next.

Oh, fuck you.  Technically I'm not going out to sleep in my car.  I have things I need to do.  For example, this blog post.  And then I need to go to Buffalo Wild Wings to see if our club can do our Trivia Night there again.  (This visit is coming so late.)  But goddammit, if they weren't going to be such dicks, I would be staying home and sleeping in my bed instead of sleeping in my car.

But hey, it's a hot and humid day.  I won't be sleeping in my car because it's too hot to sleep in my car!  So there!

Shit, have they found me out?  That asshole has been hounding me all my life, but for some goddamn reason, why he said this morning has me scared.  Is it because I don't bitch about Mother not packing lunch for me?  Is me taking Monday off to recuperate from Atlanta, or the days off the past couple weeks to go to the dentist and doctor, giving him the idea that I'm not working at all?  Could they tell from me leaving the house later than I have before?  I ... just don't know if they are going to finally confront me with evidence that they know I'm not working.  And now I don't know what to do.

Didn't really have much to say to My Fucking Father after he blindsided me with that shit either, so I just uttered his smartass comment with, "No."  He then came back at me with, "You find go find a job," and I just threw out a "Of course" as I was bolting out the door, but not without muttering something like, "You're going to be disappointed in me anyway."  Because he will be no matter what I do.

I'm determined to go to tonight's soccer match at US Bank Stadium, the first-ever event there, but now I don't know if they're going to come at me with some bullshit about unemployment when I come home.  Goddamn, that reminds me: The unemployment office might be sending something for me through the mail.  Can I intercept it in time?