I watched about half my subscriptions before Dad asked if we were going out for any reason today. We needed some groceries so I confirmed this, slammed the last warm linear cup of coffee in my stein and headed down stairs to dress my children.
A few frustrated shouts at disobedient children later, we were all headed down to the truck when the phone rang. It was a collector calling about a Sears credit card I applied for years ago and never heard anything about since. Apparently I owe some money on said card.
I can fathom the possibility that they may have possibly approved such an application and then mailed the card off to some address I no longer live at where it was thrown away and the account was charged with monthly fees and interest on said fees until the eventual cancellation of the card and the turning over of my balance to some debt collection agency. Fine, that actually makes sense given the amount they are asking me to pay them. I still want something in writing before I agree to anything and I'm certainly not doing anything over the phone.
Here's where my day really begins.
I told the collector "Fine, send me a bill or something in the mail and we'll talk then." and I hung up and hurried out the door. It was at the moment I hung up that Dad began in on me.
"What did you say hat for?! Why would you admit to the possibility of fault?!!"
"What are you talking about? I just want something in writing before I pay anyone any money? What's wrong with that?"
"Yeah, well you should have said that instead of asking him to bill you!"
He continued bitching at me but I shut him out and began bitching to myself under my breath about how "There's always someone willing to tell me just how wrong I am in every walk of life."
First off, my debts aren't any of his damn business! But more importantly, what the fuck difference does it make if I use the word "bill" instead of "something in writing that itemizes my debts via mail"(AKA a bill)? Asking for a bill doesn't mean I'm admitting anything. Where the fuck does he get off lecturing me on how to deal with callers or anything monetarily related for that matter? I mean he's going on 50 and he's moved in with his stepson because he smokes all his money away!
Anyway, he overheard my mumbling and started in even more on me but I can't remember what it was he said that started the last four sentence conversation we had for the day but it was some kind of inquiry as to why I'm pissed.
"Why the hell are you so fucking comfortable talking to me like that? I don't talk to you like that!"
"Well excuse me all to hell for caring about my son and wanting to help him out with money!"
"That's fine but you don't have to be such a fucking asshole about it!"
"And you don't have to be such a fucking idiot!"
I couldn't say anything because my mind wanted to yell about ten different things at once. I wanted to yell "Some fuckin Dad you are!" and "Go fuck yourself!" and "Says the idiot who doesn't understand the definition of the word 'bill'!" and "What makes you think you have any right to lecture me on money!" and "Where the fuck do you get off? I don't call you fat, ugly, lazy, drug addicted or a loser!" and I wanted to punch him in the face hard enough to break his driver side window and I wanted to exit the truck. But I didn't do or say any of that.
I just looked at him with a look that said "How can you be such a fucking piece of shit......." and then all I said was "I just wanted something in writing?"
He drove us to the store, I started shopping and he waited in the truck. Then we came home and watched 2 movies upstairs while he fumed in his room about God knows what. He was still avoiding me when we came down. The we went to our party and watched Batman Forever(Wow that movie sucks BTW!) and finally came home and fed the children.
It's now 9:30 and he's still not talking to me.
Isn't it funny how the smallest things can ruin someone's whole day?