Yesterday/Monday morning. Since my parents were home, I instinctively thought My Fucking Father would lay out lunch for me even though I never need it, so after I grab my bag, I take a few steps toward the kitchen counter. There was nothing there for me, but Mother, eating breakfast while watching TV, sees this and tells me to grab a banana on the coffee table. Damn.
And then, while I pull down the driveway, I see My Fucking Father. He was hidden behind the minivan; I was looking behind me, turned my head around, then see him digging up the rest of the weeds rising through the cracks of the driveway. He was lying in wait like a murderer! GAH!!! He was glowering at me with his trademark bitterness, but when I saw it I didn't process what that usually meant. I had to go to work. Besides, I thought he was kind of smart; if he wanted to pull weeds, better to do it in the early morning than in the heat of the middle of the day.
But apparently what really set him off was when I reminded Mother after dinner that I was going to tonight's/Tuesday night's Twins Game. I'm taking the leftover food off the table and onto the kitchen counter for storage when My Fucking Father stops washing the dishes and says to me, "Why don't you do something" -- his way of saying, "How's this for an idea," and his ideas are never fucking good and always condescending -- "Why don't you write down all the money you spend when you're at a game for whole year. Good idea?" No, you asshole -- I didn't say asshole -- but I did say that 1) I'm not going to do it and 2) the ticket is free because of my friend. I am starting to come around to the belief that he isn't really hating me for spending money. He's just getting back at me because I didn't mow the lawn and pull all the weeds out of the driveway (I did pull some; I used a spray for the rest, and why would he buy weedkiller when he is eventually going to pull those weeds out anyway?). And beyond all that, he wasn't worried about spending money when the Mega Millions jackpot climbed above a billion dollars and he wanted me to buy $20 worth at a time. Fucking hypocrite.
So I can't expect this asshole to be cool with me when I go out after dinner to, for example, a concert I might want to go to on Saturday, or the Major League All-Star festivities next Week. I'll have to lie; I'll probably have to "go to the gym" several times over the next month. Meanwhile there is a huge pile of clothes just waiting to be washed, and I know just the overbearing, passive-aggressive prick who'll martyr himself into thinking he has to do it. I'm just laying it just inside my bedroom door because his retired ass has nothing better to do but wash all my clothes. He'll do it today ... then yell at me for about something else besides washing my clothes that also isn't any of his motherfucking business.
Goddamn him; Labor Weekend can't come soon enough.
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