While I was writing the previous post, upstairs in the loft area that overlooks the living room, Dad and Mom woke up and wandered into the living room. I gave them both coffee and put on the Today Show. Then Dad tried to turn up the volume....which changed the channel on the TV.
F*%@!!!
These are the things that are going to break me. It's not the showers or the shaving or the feeding a diabetic or doing more laundry than I've ever done in my life. It's the tiny little clash of daily habits.
I HATE TV in the morning. HATE it. Unless the world is ending, I'd rather find out passively, quietly, in the newspaper. I don't need Ann Curry spoon-feeding it to me from New York.
Still, in order to find domestic tranquility, I'm squelching my hatred of morning TV. I'm letting Dad have a semblance of his regular morning routine in MY living room...and then hiding myself away.
But then technology roars up and bites us in the ass. Seriously? Now the remote controls don't work? Great.
So what do I do? I lose my temper and my patience and take it out on Dad. I snap at him and grab the remote.
How much do I suck? A lot.
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