A hustle here and a hustle there

In the never ending drama that is my dysfunctional family, my father somehow managed to lose his bag on his way home from work last night. Don't ask me how, the logistics of it completely baffle me - the bag slides onto the stand that's mounted on the back of the bike, but hey whatever. Massive tantrum-throwing ensued. He retraced his route and what have you, still no sign of the bag (I might point out that I made dinner last night and thanks to all this prolonged up-and-down bag searching, it was a complete waste of time). It’s a big drama because he had just started this new position and all his clearance permits were in there as was his leather jacket and other motorbike related things (if he wore the damn leather jacket instead of bitching about it the whole time, this would not have been a problem). After listening to the raging and being yelled at a fair few times, I was getting very FED UP with all this. I am very sympathetic to his plight, but he never gave me the time of day when my bag was stolen (I stress, stolen not lost). And it’s not like I didn’t lose things – I lost all my uni work (including an entire chapter of my IWP novel), my sidekick and my iPod (which equates to the same amount as his damn jacket really) – but all he did was yell at me. So I’m sorry if I’m not particularly keen to stand here and have him take out his frustration on me. So this morning continued in much the same way, with him being rude and waking me up fucking early even though I only got to sleep at 2 am. Having had quite enough of this, and while listening to him tell his sob story to some poor unsuspecting M5 employee, I actually tracked down his bag for him.

I hacked into CCTV to see where he actually lost it and used his mobile gps to triangulate its current position…um yeah, what do I look like, Toshiko Sato? Instead, in a case of persistance is key, I rang his mobile...and someone picked up. Bag collected. Done and done. Still, I take full credit for it. Honestly though, what are the chances? My dad has the best damn luck. I'm STILL waiting for someone to track down my bag.

Of course now he’s all happy again and I just want to throw a shoe at him. He just had the nerve to tell me not to be so “moody”. Five minutes ago he was yelling at me, for something that is completely and utterly due to his own stupidity. Now suddenly I'm supposed to jump for joy...without so much as a thank you, I might add. Ha good luck. I can brood like it's nobody's business.

Bloody parents.

Music: Walk on the wild side - Lou Reed
Mood: Aggravated