Getting back to the story at hand, I told him I had planned on probably reading most of the day, but that was about it. Essentially my docket was wide open. I'm sure this came as a shock to him... "Well he repeated, I have some work for you to do if you're interested. What time do you plan on getting up?" "I have no idea," I replied. "I just told you yesterday one of the new perscriptions I picked up is supposedly an 'oldschool' sleep aid. Meaning it's supposed to knock you out. The doctor told me don't make any plans for the next 6-8 hours after taking it. So... yeah, I have no idea. I plan on getting as much sleep as my body allows me to."
He shrugged and briefly outlined for me some his plans which included driving the F-150 to downtown Charlotte so one of us, presumably him, could drive his other car back. I contemplated asking him a snyde question about his confidence in my ability to drive one of his vehicles, given his utter lack of confidence in my driving style but in the end I decided perhaps it was best to leave this for another time. A time when I'm not basically broke and relegated to taking any odd-job he will throw my way. "Alright," I say. "I'm not setting any alarms so I guess I'll talk to you when I get up."
I get up around 11:30AM. As I walk toward my light switch it's already evident that I was definately still feeling some of the physical effects of the sleep medication, which frankly suprised me. I'm also hungry as hell. So the first thing I do is head straight toward my kitchen and make a protein shake. I figure getting something in my system would be the best way to solve both problems of my hunger and lingering drug effects. I make a shake, grab a multivitamin and a fish-oil supplement and proceed through my typical morning routine. This usually consists of pulling up My Yahoo! homepage and then checking fagbook for any possibly entertaining updates or friends in need of my social signature; meaning people who have posted something I deem as 'stupid' that I will add my 51.3 cents to. Usually insulting or satirical in nature; often both.
After consuming about half of my shake I feel both my grogginess and hunger will quickly be resolved so I called my dad. Asking him if what the status was with his daily plan and if I had missed my window of opportunity. He told me I hadn't, he was on the way home in the F-350 and he'd see me soon. So I hang up and pick-up where I left off, purusing various articles that struck my eye on Yahoo!. Roughly 10 minutes later, my dad opens my basement door and shouts down "Are you ready to go?" As if he had mentioned any detail about being in some sort of rush or meeting some time-frame. "Uhhh.. almost" I yell back. He slams the door and I jump into action. I was already dressed so my answer was essentially true. Although it's noteworthy I didn't have my contacts in and there was an imminent need for me to defecate before I left on whatever dumbass errand we were running. As I didn't see either of these tasks as very time consuming, I headed straight to the source: the bathroom. I popped both my contacts in relatively quickly then sat down to complete the task at hand. No sooner does my ass hit the seat til I hear my dad's voice shouting out my name in an annoyed tone. "CHASE?!" "YES?" I shout back in an more annoyed tone. "What are you doing!? It's been 8 minutes already." "I'm going to the bathroom." I respond. "Come upstairs when you're ready," he replies. I hear him subsequently stomp up the stairs and slam the door.
After finishing my business I grabbed my wallet, phone and of course - my sunglasses - and knocked on his door. I notice all three of the dogs look toward the front door. Meaning he had definately already left the house. I open the front door and notice the F-150 is already gone and I'm immediately perturbed. I call his cell-phone. He doesn't answer and it goes to voicemail. I repeated this three times til I realized he probably wasn't going to pick up. Typical Chuck McGovern behaviour; act like a teenage girl. So I sent him a text, despite the fact I was relatively certain he wouldn't read it til long after he reached his destination or perhaps indefinately.
Me:Wtf is your problem? You said "come upstairs when you're ready." Not hey Chase I'm gonna come downstairs act like a jackass and leave.
Me: Way to act like a 3 year old.
Knowing full well these text messages probably wouldn't be read only fueled my anger at getting ready in such a rush only to be ditched without warning. So once again I call him back. Once again he doesn't answer. And once again I get his voicemail. This time I decide to leave a message. "Hi, this is Chase McGovern," I begin. "Since you've decided not to answer my calls, I'm going to keep calling you back and fill up your entire mailbox," then hung up. I then proceeded to keep calling him back repeatedly going through the alphabet as I left messages. I got about half-way through til I came to the conclusion I was probably only annoying myself much more than I could ever annoy him. Unfortunately for me, this is often the case regardless of who I am dealing with.
So I retreat to my basement, knowing he'll be back eventually, unable to avoid my impending confrontation. As I settled back down in the dark solitude of my basement my mood quickly followed suit and I was very quickly overwhelmed with feelings of tiredness. Perhaps it was my anger slowly diwndling, the darkness of my basement, the lingering sleep-drug effects or the most comforting fact that I'd probably annoyed him somewhat - just in the fact that he got mad enough to leave so quickly, thus disabling him to fully accomplish whatever his total plan for the day was, given it required two people. So I went back into the total abyss that is my bedroom and fell asleep for a few hours.
I woke back up and immediately listened down the hall, to see if I could hear his TV going. I could, so I wasted no time in going straight up the stairwell to confront him. "So... what's the deal?" I asked him. "What deal? There is no deal. I didn't feel like going down to Charlotte today." Total bullshit. "No I mean why'd you come downstairs and say "come up when you're ready," then just leave?" "I was in a rush, I waited and waited and waited. Then I decided to finally leave," he said. "Oh really," I replied in the most sarcastic tone I could manage (which, for the record, is ultra-sarcastic). "What exactly was the time period between these supposed 'ands'? If you were in such a rush, why didn't you even ONCE mention that to me? Don't you think that'd have been at all pertinent? Instead you tell me come up when I'm ready then just go? Who does that?" "I was already past exit 23 when you first called me," he replied. "Sounds like you were driving pretty recklessly, and you think I drive too fast." "Listen," he says. "I don't feel like arguing with you right now." "Arguing?!" I exclaim. "This isn't an argument. This is me asking you why you always have to behave like such a jerk. While you have no comeback whatsoever." He starts to laugh slightly. This means he's getting really annoyed. Before my dad completetly erupts, sort of similar to the fashion I often do, he always tries to laugh off the agitation at hand. "Don't you consider anyone else when making any decision? And you think Colleen is selfish... and you wonder where she gets it from?" "No I don't," he replies in the same half-laughing manner. "Good," I say. "Because it's pretty obvious."
He then got up and slammed his door and my face. "Typical behaviour for someone who has no comeback and nothing to say... or for a 16 year old girl," I shout through his door. I hear him laughing, probably half-laughing, half-fuming on the other side of the door. Also the typical behaviour of someone who has just been served up with a rather harsh: Reality Check.
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