My Fucking Father Fucked Me (Figuratively) ... First Time In A Long Time

Jesus fucking Christ ... I thought I had published this yesterday/Monday, and I apparently I fucking hit the wrong button or something, and so I did not publish this yesterday/Monday?  Goddammit.  And that meant that I skipped yet another day without blog posting.  Double goddammit.

Instead of changing every "yesterday" to "Sunday," I am just going to write this prologue stating that this piece was supposed to have been posted yesterday/Monday.

I have the perfect subsequent blog post for this, but I guess I won't have to write that until at least later today.  Fucking God, how in the hell did I not publish this piece. ...

---

Came home from work yesterday to see that he cleaned up my bedroom.  Well, not all of it, but the stuff on the dresser was put into several bags.  And two of them wound up in the trash.  What's worse is that after dinner, he knew that I would be looking through them, so he literally took them outside to the bin -- and not the recycling bin.  I went outside after dinner, and that motherfucker put them in the trash bin, even though they were recyclable.  He even made a point of putting the actual bag of trash on top of one of the bags -- you know, to taint the papers I kept on my dresser so I would peruse them later.  Those moves (taking them out of my bedroom, then taking them into the trash bin, then putting actual trash on my stuff) convinces me that is fucking determined to throw away my stuff.  He wants to make this personal.

Well, fuck him -- I hope.  Does that son-of-a-bitch think I won't retrieve my stuff now that he's thrown it in the trash?  Goddamn him -- I dug through the trash to find my sub sandwich six days ago, and I ate it, for fuck's sake!!!  Turns out being a trash panda makes for good experience now that he's pulled this bullshit.  (Although I now regret not at least putting those bags in the less-smelly recycling bin.  I just looked inside the bin and then left it because I was afraid My Fucking Father would catch me.)  What I am going to do is get up real early in the morning, hopefully not see My Fucking Father out and about, go out to my car and, while warming up the engine, throwing those bags into my car.  Then after work, I'll throw them into my storage unit, where they'll be safe from My Fucking Father's cruel hands.  Hope to God I can get away with it.

In the meantime I have been internally so pissed off.  I am so fucking mad at him right now.  He ostensibly did this to redo my television.  (I went downstairs to his computer room to watch Liga MX on Telemundo because I couldn't get it on my TV.  When I turned my TV on after I got home, my set turned on to Telemundo.  Another passive-aggressive mind game from that asshole.)  He then took the opportunity to screw me over.  I just have to keep telling myself what Bruce Lee always says: "Be water."