Yesterday I was upstairs collecting garbage. I heard Mom saying something, kinda loudly, which is unusual. Finally, I hear her yell: "KAREN, DAD IS OUTSIDE."
I threw down the garbage and ran downstairs. I knew this didn't mean he was on the deck where he's been many times. Nope. He walked out the front door (left it wide open), went down the front steps (there are about 20 of them) walked down our street (we live on a hill) down to the sidewalk. Then he turned around, walked back and up the stairs and walked inside like it was no big deal.
I said: "DAD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" He looked at me calmly and said: "I went for a walk. You told me I needed more exercise. My back feels absolutely perfect."
*Cut to me burying my face in my hands.
Look, this is bad. This is VERY bad. This means Dad can't be trusted to stay in the house. Until now, I felt safe in the knowledge that he didn't have the leg strength to "escape." Suddenly he's had a miraculous cure?
I don't know what to think, but I'm pretty sure that now I have something new to worry about.
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