Finding Usefulness and Humor in the Difficult Situation of Living with an Elderly Parent.
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Life According to Dadzilla
It's All Chinese to Me
It's another one of those evenings. I'm hungry and
don't feel like waiting for Dadzilla to go to bed before I enter the
kitchen. I decide on a bowl of cereal because I don't like the
frozen dinner situation. It's been almost six frickin' years and he
still can't remember which dinners I like. I've been asked what I
want before and I know I've told him and written things down, yet
some things never appear in the freezer, despite being on sale and
“You can't have cereal for dinner.” Oh, good.
More orders, as if I'm some sort of impetulant teenager who doesn't
know what's good for themselves. “Why aren't you eating those
frozen dinners? And what about the lunch meat? There's that in the
drawer in the fridge.”
I'd like to know what kind of evil I've done in a past
life to deserve this now. Surely, I was Vlad the Impaler. “As I
know I've said before, I don't like those dinners or that lunch
meat.” I know I'm kind of picky when it comes to meat. Whether in
lunch meat or frozen dinners. I've made suggestions too. If you're
in doubt, then get something vegetarian. I can almost guarantee
there won't be a problem with that AND vegetarian items tend to be
cheaper than meat items. There's also the option to just not get
anything, which is WAY more favorable that going over the same crap
over and over and over for years.
“Goddamn it! What the hell do
you like?” I start gritting my teeth. The same thing every time.
“I'm gonna just stop getting dinners. Ta hell with it!”
“And that's fine. I prefer it to this every other
time I come out to the kitchen.”
“Don't be stupid. You've gotta eat. You're not
Chinese or Vietnamese...”
“What does that have to do with anything.”
“Because you like that kind of food.” You've got
to be kidding me. As if that's the only type of food I eat. As if
non-Asian people aren't supposed to like Asian food.
I hurry up with the cereal and get the hell out of the
kitchen and make a bee-line to my room. Dadzilla says something, but
I'm not sure what it is since I wear earplugs an inordinate amount of
time. I keep going to my room, because I just don't care anymore.
“Don't you turn your back to me, goddamn it!”
I keep going, trying to flee the one man Gestapo. This
is the kind of thing that used to send my mother taking off for her
room. Now, that's what I do. <Walls No Ears><cont'd in future post>