I swear I really, really needed to go; either it was the Hooters boneless wings (and by the way, I saw my favorite Hooters waitress back at work for the first time in months!!!) or the Dairy Queen chocolate shake that prompted my bowel movement. But I will be honest with you: I have seen my folks walk around the block often enough I can time when they're coming home. I swear that once I was done in the bathroom, however long it would take, if they hadn't come home by then or if they came home and they decided not to do the dishes, I would have done the dishes. But I figured that they would come home while I was in the bathroom, and that they would do the dishes.
And they did. And yeah, I was grateful; I think getting up in the morning when I didn't have to go to work (but went to get my blood drawn instead) drained me of any energy I had in the day, and I got "slangry," or "tirangry." Anyway, as I hear the water running and the silverware and plates clanging in the kitchen, my parents begin to argue. And I still hate that I refused to learn Chinese when I was young because I couldn't make out much. But I could pick out some, a little more than I usually can when they argue (and, by the way, they haven't argued a whole lot since they came home). I think they were arguing over ... me. I heard, "I gave him some vegetables to eat!" and ... well, if there was other stuff I picked up I forgot. But that "I gave him some vegetables to eat!" crack came in loud and clear. I just am not totally certain they were arguing over me not washing my dishes, or if they were arguing over something about me eating or not eating something, or if they were arguing over me about something else, or, really, if they were really arguing over me at all.
If my parents are upset at each other, they're not showing it now as we just had breakfast. And if they are mad at me, well, they're doing their best to hide it and are waiting to come at me at a future date.
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