"Do you want yours toasted?" Dad asked as I sat at the kitchen table.
"Yes, please!" I exclaimed happily.
The din of the television was ever omnipresent and you could hear it droning on in the den.
I told him of my computer revelations this morning -- of realizing I can make just one more computer out of the parts I had at the house.
Into my father's little toaster oven went two sandwiches with a twist of the timer. The dill pickle spear was the icing on the cake for me. Charlie's wife pickled them a few weeks ago. We also had some frou-frou potato chips that were very salty and chapped my already dry lips.
"I'll see you at nine for your medications," my father told me as I was heading home to do some more computering.
I noticed dad was drinking wine from a little sippy cup. He feels he will drink less out of a little cup like that.
"Don't drink and drive," I told my father rather assertively pointing to his little cup. "I will come and pick them up if you've had too much to drive."
He said he would call me and let me know.
No comments:
Post a Comment