Card-Carrying Sleuth

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It is becoming yet another full-time job of mine to troubleshoot everything and anything my Dad thinks he hears:

  • Voices outside the door
  • Chairs scraping from the condo above
  • Banging from the garage below¬†
  • Motorcycles revving up on the street

It’s entirely possible that some of these noises DID occur, at one time, and some I have actually heard myself. But I simply cannot track every sound and motion – even as it becomes his latest obsession. Then, when I tell him to please stop tapping his fingers or grinding his teeth because it’s distracting me while I’m trying to write (this blog post, for example), he gets all bent out of shape because he doesn’t think THOSE noises are annoying.

So, what’s the solution?

The solution is: turn up the volume of his TV (even more, if possible); wait for him to fall asleep in his comfy lounger (oops, he just did) and Voila… Problem solved!*

*at least until next time…

Musical Dining Chairs

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Last night I was having a conversation with my Mom at the dining table. I happened to sit down on ‘Dad’s’ chair because it was the closest one (and unoccupied at that particular moment). I had barely begun speaking when my Dad approached and asked me why I was sitting in ‘his’ chair.

“Because,” was my very grown-up answer. An answer, mind you, that my kids had given me countless times when they were younger. A perfectly ‘non-answer’… An answer telling me exactly nothing… Not even close to an answer and certainly not a complete sentence or even a complete thought.

But I digress.

My point, and I do have one, is that I wouldn’t purposely take his chair. Nor would I be particularly upset about getting up out of his chair… Except for the fact that, no sooner had I gotten myself up and moved to another chair, he didn’t even sit down. Not in his chair, not in my chair, not a green chair, not a blue chair (sorry, couldn’t help myself).

Well, he did sit down but not in the aforementioned chair. He took the chair on the other side of the table and turned it sideways so he could see and hear the tv from less than a foot away. So why exactly did I need to get up?

I guess it’s something we never really outgrow – that need to call things our own. We don’t like to share our toys with other kids when we’re toddlers or what we did at school that day with our parents when we’re teens. We hate sharing our feelings with our significant others when we’re dating/married and definitely won’t share our self-assigned dining chair with anyone, at anytime or for any reason. Just… because!