a routine malaise

17 Sep

My father and I do not often see eye-to-eye.
Case in point: today, I get home, have a snack, lay on my bed and draw, check facebook, grab my guitar, go into the kitchen. There are dishes and crap on the counter. I put the crap away, check the dishwasher and find it’s full. Sigh to myself, put dirty dishes in the sink, proceed to RAWKKKK.
Six hours later my dad bursts into my room and asks in his angry voice “when did you get home?”
I reply “4 ‘o clock.”
“So you were here for at least two hours. The dishes aren’t done.”
“oh.”
“I was at work from seven to six. Do you know how long that is? I was at WORK for eleven hours.”
At this point I start thinking “that’s nice, dad, that’s your job,” but saying that would be a very Bad Idea.
He proceeds to glare at me and step out of my room.

My parents are really super overprotective, my dad is a neat freak, and my mom is only really concerned with what I look like. I don’t love my parents so much as am afraid of them, since I really don’t see what is wrong with what I’ve done.

Anyway, parents aside, it is the weekend, tomorrow is Matt Car’s party that he’s been talking about for weeks now, I don’t know why but hell I’m going anyway. Paulie is trying to coerce me into doing shots of Kahlua with her, but I’m going to very much abstain. I have no idea if this will be a good party or not. I might just stay home.

Not much else to report atm. I keep thinking my dad’s opening the door to yell at me more. It is hell on my nerves.

Goodnight.

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