Monday, June 30, 2008

Honor thy father

means not killing him, right?

Clearwater was typically non-specific about the arrival time of the water softener installer, so I was home and changed out of my work clothes by noon. Dad arrived about quarter after, and was pouty because the work I'd brought home was stuff I had to do on the computer. After his little hissyfit, he stomped out to the garage to hook a battery charger up to my lawnmower while the coffee he'd pretty much demanded I make was brewing. At some point after Dad went to the garage but before he came back in, Bigfoot pooped on the breezeway floor.

On his way back in, Dad not only stepped in it, but failed to notice that he'd done so, and he tracked it through the breezeway, the kitchen, the hallway and the bathroom. When I told him what had happened, he got angry with poor old Bigfoot and angry with me, and bitched and whined about how it would never come out of the treads of his shoes. NB: I took them outside and used the pinpoint setting on my sprayer head and they cleaned up perfectly. Dad put his shoes back on, poured coffee into his traveling mug (leaving a small pond of coffee on the kitchen counter for me) and went to the bank and to do some shopping. He told me to call him when the service guy arrived, but he came back at 2:00 and no one was here yet.

I closed all my files and told Dad he could have the computer for ONE. HOUR. At 3:15, I basically had to bully him into giving it up, and he told me I hadn't given him enough time to put the keyboard, monitor and speakers back where they were. After rebooting and re-arranging, I went back to work on my book. Dad installed the new bathroom fan, and I had to go admire it.

The guy finally showed up at 4:05, and I put Littlefoot in my bedroom and tied Bigfoot up outside. Dad borrowed one of my garden hoses to drain the hot water heater, put a "severe kink" in it and then borrowed my good snips to cut it apart. It started to rain, so I let poor Bigfoot back in and got yelled at for not keeping him out of the basement, despite the fact that Dad is the one leaving the damn door open every time he goes down there.

Right now, the guy's still down there installing, Dad is wandering around being a major grump, the water's still off and I reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally need to piddle.

I need to send my mother flowers for putting up with him for forty-six years!


Anonymous said...

Yes yes, your pop is a pain in the patoot, but he is always there for you isn't he?

Romantic Heretic said...

Snerk. It's a good thing for him he's family. ;)

Becs said...

Er, isn't this SOP for Grouchy Old Men? Sounds like every one I've ever met.

I hope you enjoy a frabjous bath.