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Archive for the ‘Grievances’ Category

Pet Peeve #5: Empty toilet roll. Why do you hate me so much?

When you live with someone long enough, they can do things, even little things, to really get on your nerves.

Examples:

Growing up with my two sisters we fought over clothes, bathroom time, and whose turn it was to do the dishes.

Husbands are also a great source of pet peeves; never refilling the toilet paper roll, leaving wet towels on the furniture, and flossing their teeth anywhere but in the bathroom.

And my late mother, she HATED when you’d read a book without a light on behind you. If you really pissed her off Mom would usually react one of two ways:

  1. Respond sarcastically to questions like, “Where are you going?” with, “Crazy, that’s where!”
  2. The silent treatment.

Mom was a pro at “2.”

These pet peeves and others are minor inconveniences we put up with every day. Whether it’s finding toenail clippings or coffee stains on the counter for the 1,876,435 time, we supposedly love these people and are willing to bite our lip because we know their good qualities far out weigh the bad. Besides, none could be so irritating as to cause a mental break, right?

Then comes Charlie.

Pet Peeve #4: Drama Queens and/or generally anyone on Reality TV.

I love my dad. He’s often thoughtful, funny, and tolerates me eating his food and using his washing machine while I’m visiting in exchange for home cooked meals, cleaning, and, I assume, my sparkling personality. That said, however, Charlie also has some seriously grating aspects to his personality that can be beyond irritating and could nearly drive a sane person to tears.

Perhaps that’s what was causing Mom to go ‘crazy’?

I’ve begged him, I’ve pleaded. Still no change in his behavior.

“Dad, could you please turn the music down?”

“DAD. I’m sitting right here. You really don’t need to yell.”

“Could you PLEASE STOP leaving your wires everywhere? Someone is going to trip over them and kill themselves!” (Close calls happen about a half dozen times a week.)

“Are you aware you just said ‘Son of a bitch’ five F*CKING times in the last five F*CKING minutes?!”

The thunderous snoring. The TV at full volume, coupled with his refusal to replace the battery in his hearing aid. The pointing at his non-existent wrist watch at the stroke of 12 noon and 6pm to not-so-stubbly indicate he’s ready for me to make food. I’ve bitten my lip and lived almost blissfully with all of these “minor inconveniences” for weeks. Then the day came when I discovered the biggest potential Dad-related pet peeve of all: A disrespectful sound used to cut me off in mid-conversation. That’s when I mentally broke and the Mexican Standoff or, in our case, German Standoff began. (more…)

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He’s had his lunch, it’s 2 o’clock, so Charlie decides to take a break from swearing at technology for an afternoon nap.

In addition to the technology – which I’ve come to hate with a passion – Dad’s naps have become the curse of my current existence. He sleeps about three times a day, sometimes unintentionally, and far too often within ear shot.

  1. One to two hour naps shortly after breakfast and/or lunch.
  2. One hour in front of the TV, computer, etc. usually when attempting to stay up passed 8pm.
  3. Eight hours of semi-regular sleep from 9pm, which hopefully carries on into the next morning.

Having spoken to others on the subject of old people and naps, I know this is a pretty common occurrence. As you get older the body slows down, you have less energy, and thus require more down time. Based on this theory, I’d assume millions of people over the age of 60 are taking naps at any given point of the day. I have to wonder, however, while the frequency tends to remain the same, do all retirees also choose the most random of locations? And how many have daughters slowly being driven mad by proximity and nap-related noise?

jupiterimages.com

Location, Location, Location

Charlie can fall asleep anywhere:

  1. In church
  2. In front of the computer with his head propped up on his elbow
  3. Sitting in a booth at Denny’s while waiting for his usual, senior discounted Country Fried Steak with Coleslaw

All completely random and without warning.

Dad even sleeps in the car. After kindly offering to drive me to the store, though he knew I’d need at least 15-20 minutes to get ready, Charlie still went straight out to the car and proceeded to take what seemed to be an unplanned snooze behind the wheel. Did he forget he was in the car or did he really mean to sit there, coat on, key in the ignition, and head tilted forward like he’d taken a blow to the back of the head?

It’s like he’s some kind of elderly, absent minded narcoleptic.

And God forbid if you try to wake him up. Even if you’re successful, Dad ALWAYS tries to pretend that he wasn’t. Teeth clinched, claws out:

“GrrrGRRRAH!… Huh… What?!… NO! I wasn’t SLEEPING!” (more…)

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davegraff.com

It’s pretty well established at this point that my dad, Charlie, is addicted to computers or – more specifically – “fixing” them. It has also been stated that while Dad is unquestionably knowledgeable in the area of electronics from the 1970s, he lacks the required formal expertise in modern-day computers and related technology. These facts, coupled with his stubborn refusal to admit his aforementioned limitations, more often than not, lead to disaster.

I wish I was making the following story up. I assure you, I am not.

Charlie’s latest forage into the realm of attempted computer repair came at the expense of a young woman’s poor, defenseless Toshiba laptop. The woman, an acquaintance from church, heard through the grapevine of Charlie’s hobby and asked if he would mind taking a look at her broken laptop screen.

One broken laptop screen? Check. (more…)

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To know Charlie is to be well aware that he has a terrible addiction. For the last several years, this addiction has become increasingly debilitating and all-consuming. As with most unhealthy obsessions it hurts not only Dad, but his family as well. To be honest, this tragic situation has us all living in our own personal Hell. The number of bruises and stubbed toes alone…!

Yes, I’m ashamed to say that my father is addicted to computers. Not the Internet, mind you, though he does seem to download viruses (usually unintentionally) from less “respectable” websites a little too often. (How he keeps finding them, I’ll never – and don’t want to – know.) For Charlie, being able to get a computer on the Internet or play Hearts is only the end game. What he is addicted to is the collection and dismantling of PCs, laptops, or anything with an artificial pulse. (more…)

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