My father just came downstairs to tell me that he believes that I ought to apologize for being rude to him at the dinner table. Of course, I just smile and blink and inform him that I didn’t mean for him to take it in a negative way and the fact that he took it in a negative away implies that he honestly believes that what I said held some truth or else he wouldn’t have taken it the wrong way.
Let’s just say that my father is not impressed with my logic and told me that I was a horrible daughter.
Of course, since I hear that I’m a horrible daughter (horrible is interchangeable with ‘terrible’) on a frequent basis, I don’t really give it that much weight anymore. I mean, it’s so easy to take things that he tells me with a grain of salt nowadays that I really just don’t care. And then my dad comes back in like a minute to ask me how to turn on the VCR.
Yes, you read correctly. My father insults me and then expects me to help him with something that is incredibly simple and mundane and something that he has done probably a few thousand times before.
“Hit the ‘power’ button.. It’s the red one, at the top.”