September 24th, 2007

krazy koati

I say high, you say low, you say why

My father is upset that I do not say ``hello'' to him when I enter the house, or ``goodbye'' when I leave, at least not loud enough for him to hear. If I were feeling nasty and hurtful I would point out directly to him that it is not possible to say these things loud enough for him to hear, as he hasn't worn the hearing aid he needs since Ford pardoned Nixon. Oddly enough, my brother came to my defense and pointed out that I've just come off of ten years of living exclusively by myself, and then for six years before that living in dorm rooms where you can tell your roommate when you're leaving or where you're going but that doesn't mean he'll find that information at all interesting. (Other people may have more social connections with their roommates; mine, we'd just kind of be in the same room and that was fine. My roommate senior year as an undergraduate I never met, since he went to bed possibly before sunset, and I'd rarely be back in before midnight -- student newspaper, you see -- and he went home -- I assume -- every single weekend without fail.)

According to my mother, I managed -- quite inadvertently -- to drive my father crazy the other day when I did happen to say bye before going out, and I left for several hours, and didn't say a word about where I was going. I assumed that it really would not be the least bit interesting to them. Apparently, my father got into a round of his high-grade sulking by thinking about what an awful thing it was to do to my mother to leave her wondering where I might be going, how long I might be out, what I might be doing, without even a thought for her natural parental nerves. My mother's actual feelings about this were that I probably had a fair idea where I wanted to go and would be back when I was done with what I liked and I was certainly old enough to drive the car successfully and to call if I needed help so there wasn't anything for her to worry about.

Sometime when I wasn't looking living with my parents turned into living in middle school.

Given that I've effectively had to give up watching the silent movies from Turner Classic Movies' Sunday night block, since the Tivo deletes them before I have an uninterrupted two hours free because it's filled up with every episode ever made of The New Yankee House Rock Wallpapering In Excruciating Detail, I don't mind getting a few underhanded digs back at him, but this is all still really silly.

Trivia: The last lawsuits from Jay Gould and Jim Fisk's attempt to corner the market in gold in September 1869 were not settled until 1877. Source: The Great Game, John Steele Gordon.

Currently Reading: The Door Into Fire, Diane Duane.