Figured I should record the following interaction between my dad and I. It happens just about every 5 minutes in the afternoon (that is, if I allow myself to be caught by him in the house).

He shuffles into the room, standing silently in front of me, waiting for me to look up and acknowledge him. “You got the keys to the van so I can back it out?”

“Well, yes, I have a set, but so does Steve (his friend that currently leases out our grove and who for some reason is the hero of all dad’s delusions lately). He can get into the car to back it out when he gets here.”

“Are you going to get everything you want out of the van?”

“When he gets here, I’ll get it out.”

“Ok, but I think you just made us lose a new van. I can’t trust you anymore. You’re worthless and stupid.”

The end. Except it isn’t. There is no end to this cycle. Every morning I get up, make his breakfast, take care of mom, the dogs, and depending on the day, go to one of my four jobs. And EVERYDAY I come home to the same unending, maddening, psychotic mess.