Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

Once upon a time, when my sister was in Middle School, she brought home a French test that she hadn't done well on.  She had to get it signed, and she left it out for when Dad got home from work (he worked nights).

The next morning, he had signed it, and left a note for Laura telling her not to fret, because her French teacher was "full of merde".  I remember this gleefully.

Ceci Merde.

Dad stuck up for us as kids.  I will never forget that.

What's interesting though, is that when I got to working age, Dad stuck up for management - usually more often than he'd side with me.  Dad was, after all, "The Man".  I'd bitch about some stupid thing at work and he would tell me I was being a pain in my boss's ass.

That frustrated the hell out of me - although I suspect he was usually right.

I'm feeling a little irritated by work - it's not one big thing - just lots of little things that have me feeling unsettled and out of sorts.  I had one meeting today in particular that put my nose out of joint in a significant way.

I've also, for no reason in particular, had a lot of dreams with Dad in them this month.  He's been sick in most of them.  One contained both him and Lola. In that one, he was so healthy and I said, "Dad you look so good - this is the best you've looked in a long time!"  And he told me that he was better because I was there.

Good days and bad days.  That's pretty much how that works.

I wish I could call him, and tell him about this shitty meeting - just bitch, and bitch and let it all out. Call people assholes and cocksuckers and let him remind me that I'm a pain in the ass.

Even the things I hated, I miss.



You make me want to fly to Wisconsin and give my dad a hug. Life is all about averaging the good and bad days together and coming up with an average we can live with. *hugs*