Nah, it's cool, I'm just the live-in maid.

So, after coming home at 7pm, first I get harassed about an insurance agent coming to my door (which, btw, had told me, while sitting down with me last Tuesday that he would call to schedule an appt. with me for Monday morning as I had told him I didn't know what my life would be like then, never did call, and just showed up at my house after I had left for work). My Dad had apparently not been awake, nor expecting anyone, and was annoyed that at 9am he'd have to answer the door. Well, I never knew anyone was coming, what could I say? If the guy had called my cell as I had told him to, I would've told him I was at work.

Ugh. Furthermore, I would have told him that I was no longer in need of insurance as my new full time job is covering me. Completely.

Bleh.

So after my parents INTERROGATING me about why I had scheduled anything with an insurance agent (btw, three months ago I was being harangued about why I wasn't looking into insurance), my Dad is like, "Your mom is sick. I'm sleeping downstairs."

Which would have been fine if things ended there.

But instead, he's like, "You need to make the bed down there."

I give him a look that says, "Are you that helpless?" I primarily only give these looks to my Dad for my benefit because he is oblivious to any body language whatsoever. Also, if I ever try to disagree with my Dad about anything, ever, and don't have my Mom to back me up, his response is, "I'm the parent, I make the decisions," at which point it's fruitless to argue further. I might as well argue with a growling Rottweiler (actually, the Rottweilier is likely to be more responsive).

So I go, and make the bed.

Then he goes down to inspect it. Comes back up, tells me I didn't put enough blankets on. This, from the man who always turns the heat off in our house because he's "too hot." Exasperated, I go back downstairs. He follows me. As I throw ten more blankets on, he tells me to tuck all of them under the edge of the mattress. Doing so makes the mattress pop up out of the bedframe, because I'm not kidding when I say I put ten more blankets on. He watches, making sure I smooth out every wrinkle. Then he goes back upstairs to his study.

I am so done right now I don't even care that there are dishes in the sink to do. I don't care that I have a huge "To Do" list that is not getting even one thing checked off it tonight because I'm up here typing this.

I need to move out. ASAP.