One For the Record Books...

On a normal night, my father would harass me about going to the grocery store. We've put it off since last Monday. He was tired tonight after working all day. I wanted to ask him if we could go drive to get some Krystal's, but I couldn't get up the courage or moxie. I hate to impose like that -- like Tuleana and Rich would always do to me. I think it may be time to do and answer questions later and I mean use the debit card.

"We'll get back on track next Monday," I told my father to reassure and placate him. "I have one more gallon of milk."

We took my medications and my father wanted to see my computer room which I thoroughly cleaned late this afternoon. That kind of stuff gets him excited.

"Looks great in here," he said. "Now clean your bathroom or I am going to get in there and clean it myself."

We certainly wouldn't want that. My bodily fluids and solids are sacred ground. Would you want your elderly father rummaging around your bathroom with rubber gloves on and some Clorox spray? "Goddamn son, what have you been doing in here?"