I keep telling my wife that my father is screwing with me.
Today is House Cleaner Day. Whenever the house cleaner comes to clean our house, my father pretends to sleep the entire time she is here. I say "pretend," because, any other day, he is up doing the two things he does best: complaining and eating.
This morning, it was business as usual. He stayed in his bedroom and the house cleaner got paid for not being able to do her job, which includes the cleaning of my father's bedroom and bathroom. As God is my witness, no sooner did the door close on her on her way out, than my father's opened.
"I'm hungry," he complained, jauntily making his way into the kitchen.
Today is House Cleaner Day. Whenever the house cleaner comes to clean our house, my father pretends to sleep the entire time she is here. I say "pretend," because, any other day, he is up doing the two things he does best: complaining and eating.
This morning, it was business as usual. He stayed in his bedroom and the house cleaner got paid for not being able to do her job, which includes the cleaning of my father's bedroom and bathroom. As God is my witness, no sooner did the door close on her on her way out, than my father's opened.
"I'm hungry," he complained, jauntily making his way into the kitchen.
While my wife busily got started fixing my father something to fill that bottomless pit of a stomach he has, he saw a cup that was left on the table. Then he picked it up and started to carry it to who knows where.
He stopped. Looked at the cup in his hand.
"Who's cup is this?" he asked.
"I don't know," I answered.
"Then why am I carrying it?" he wanted to know.
"I don't know," I wanted to know, too.
He stopped. Looked at the cup in his hand.
"Who's cup is this?" he asked.
"I don't know," I answered.
"Then why am I carrying it?" he wanted to know.
"I don't know," I wanted to know, too.
It's cool today, but what's cool for us is cold for my father. While he was waiting for his food, he told no one in particular, "It's cold."
I don't mind him making a statement, even if the statement is incorrect or an exaggeration. What I mind is all the complaining that seems to come after the initial statement is made. My wife, on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind as much as me because she always makes the mistake of answering him.
I don't mind him making a statement, even if the statement is incorrect or an exaggeration. What I mind is all the complaining that seems to come after the initial statement is made. My wife, on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind as much as me because she always makes the mistake of answering him.
"Put on some warmer clothes," she told him.
"What?"
"Put on some warmer clothes."
"Why?"
"Because it's cold."
"It's not that cold," my father said.
"You just said it was cold," my wife told him.
"Yeah," my father said, "but I can handle it."
"What?"
"Put on some warmer clothes."
"Why?"
"Because it's cold."
"It's not that cold," my father said.
"You just said it was cold," my wife told him.
"Yeah," my father said, "but I can handle it."
We have workmen coming to the house in the afternoon to finish a plumbing job they've already started in my father's bathroom.
"How many days a week do you hire those characters?" my father wanted to know.
To keep short and to not confuse him, I answered, "Two or three days a week."
"That's good," my father said, nodding his head in approval.
"They need to do some work in your bathroom," I told him, giving him a head's up.
"That's fine," he assured me.
"They need to do some work in your bathroom," I told him, giving him a head's up.
"That's fine," he assured me.
The workmen finally showed up. As I walked past my father's room to answer the front door, I peeked into his room.
He was asleep.
How does he know? I griped to myself.
"Honey," I asked my wife, sweetly, "would you please wake up my father?"
"Is your name Jose?" she asked me.
"No," I said.
"Too bad," she told me, "because that would go so well with 'No Way.'"
The workers charge too much for me to let them just hang around, so I made an executive decision and decided it was up to me to go into my father's room and nudge him awake.
"Dad," I said.
Nothing.
"Dad."
Still nothing.
"You've got to get up, Dad. The plumbers are here and they need to work in your bathroom."
"What," my Dad said, rubbing his eyes. I can almost swear he's stifling a laugh. "Did you say something?"
"You need to get up, Dad. The plumbers are here."
"Just how many days a week do you hire those characters?" he said, but this time it was a complaint.
"You need to get up, Dad," I repeated, not wanting to engage him in a conversation that goes nowhere.
"Oh, all right," he grumped.
I went inside to tell the workmen that my father would be out in a minute.
He was asleep.
How does he know? I griped to myself.
"Honey," I asked my wife, sweetly, "would you please wake up my father?"
"Is your name Jose?" she asked me.
"No," I said.
"Too bad," she told me, "because that would go so well with 'No Way.'"
The workers charge too much for me to let them just hang around, so I made an executive decision and decided it was up to me to go into my father's room and nudge him awake.
"Dad," I said.
Nothing.
"Dad."
Still nothing.
"You've got to get up, Dad. The plumbers are here and they need to work in your bathroom."
"What," my Dad said, rubbing his eyes. I can almost swear he's stifling a laugh. "Did you say something?"
"You need to get up, Dad. The plumbers are here."
"Just how many days a week do you hire those characters?" he said, but this time it was a complaint.
"You need to get up, Dad," I repeated, not wanting to engage him in a conversation that goes nowhere.
"Oh, all right," he grumped.
I went inside to tell the workmen that my father would be out in a minute.
Five minutes later, and he still wasn't out. I know five minutes doesn't seem like a long time, but it is when you're waiting. Especially when you're being charged by the hour while you're waiting. Still don't believe me? Try holding your breath for five minutes.
Yeah, I thought so.
I went back to my father's room. True to his word, he got up, but, instead of making his way out of his room, he instead went into the bathroom where the plumbers needed to do their expensive magic. Maybe he'll be quick, I thought to myself.
Half an hour passed.
Still no Dad.
I looked at the worker and the workers looked at me. I could almost see dollar signs multiplying in their eyes.
I swear my Dad is screwing with me.
Yeah, I thought so.
I went back to my father's room. True to his word, he got up, but, instead of making his way out of his room, he instead went into the bathroom where the plumbers needed to do their expensive magic. Maybe he'll be quick, I thought to myself.
Half an hour passed.
Still no Dad.
I looked at the worker and the workers looked at me. I could almost see dollar signs multiplying in their eyes.
I swear my Dad is screwing with me.
Raising My Father
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jimduchene.BlogSpot.com American Chimpanzee
@JimDuchene
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