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This form of misdirection is necessary to prevent Dad from doing things like scooping a bunch of the pie filling out with his bare hands.
He did an exaggerated Elmer Fudd "I'm hunting wabbit" tippy-toes walk over to the cinnamon roll and then dashed away with it, smirking as though getting away with something. Had a freshly-baked pie been visible to him in this state of mind, I feel confident that he would have burned himself.
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My dad agreed over the phone to represent Pjackk on a possession charge, but when he showed up at the courthouse he found out 1) his client was not there as agreed and 2) there were now five additional charges for crimes allegedly committed literally during the phone call. They said he was going 90MPH in something that "wasn't legally a vehicle" and that "violated a municipal obscenity ordinance."
He also apparently wanted to pay "in dogs." Dad's not allowed to accept those anymore or the office manager says she'll quit.
aaaaaa
Mom has never had any real sense of smell, and since Dad started losing his due to COVID, the two of them never actually have clean towels, clothes, etc. Dad runs the washer without detergent, takes stuff out of the dryer still wet, and piles it on top of any actual clean laundry Mom may have done, so the bacteria and mold can recolonize it. Literally everything here has developed a fecal/rot odor, and apparently neither of them can detect it.
In combination with the constant food poisoning due to Dad's "dishwashing" habits, it's clearly making them sick - they keep dozens of bottles of Imodium and Pepto around, Dad nearly died of a gastrointestinal crisis a couple years back, they keep getting skin and nail infections - but they either cannot accept that there's a problem, or think it's an unsolvable one that they just have to live with until it kills them. They don't think there's a middle ground between "do everything themselves" and "move into a nursing home."
Cup my dad "washed" and put back in the cabinet this morning. This time there was only one bottle of Imodium on the counter when I got up, so I think he took the other to work with him.
All of the other cordless landline phone docks here have already been lost or destroyed in one way or another, so Dad is throwing a tantrum because I told him he could not safely use the last one, because it was making a loud buzzing sound and getting really hot when you plugged it in, because someone spilled fish oil all over it. Somehow this situation is my fault. Presumably, if there is an electrical fire, that will also be my fault.
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Dad showed up and started mowing the lawn without telling me he was even here.
I think Dad thinks of vacuum cleaners as disposable items that everyone has multiples of at any given time. He figures it doesn't matter if he knocks my vacuum cleaner into the bathtub and gets it all wet and then just leaves it in there and leaves the house without turning it upright or even telling anyone. I've got other vacuums, right? I will doubtleas still be able to easily vacuum up the mess he left on the carpet, with one of the multiple other vacuum cleaners that he thinks I have, after he gave the only vacuum cleaner visible to him a shower, requiring me to dry off the outside, disassemble it, leave it laid out over the kitchen table to let its insides dry out before using it again so it doesn't start a fucking fire. This is not going to cause any problems.
There was something dense and greasy all over the bedroom carpet at my parents' house, and because I discovered this after they went to bed, I had to wait until morning to ask what I'd stepped in. It was multiple layers of un-rinsed-off carpet detergent from where Dad keeps "cleaning" in there.
