There must be a light under the bushel!

CDs and plastic wrap

Part of my self-titled job living at home with my parents is to provide them with entertainment. I figure I need to be of some pretty valuable use to them since they were so gracious to let me come back and live with them while I work on my master's degree.

Well, I bring my mom bagfuls of books each time I go to the bookstore, and I bring my dad lots of movies and music.

My mom always tells me that I don't have to do that and tries to give me money. My dad, on the other hand, hates taking care of himself. He doesn't want to look for movies or food or clothes or anything for that matter. He wants it all laid out for him, and he trusts that we know what he likes better than he knows himself. The food and the clothes, I tell him to be a big boy. The movies, I indulge. Recently, he's added music to the list once he realized that I could make him a compilation of all his favorite songs onto one CD. The only problem is that I had to buy a few albums he really wanted first.

So, I trot on over to Wal-Mart and pick up the $6.99 CDs (they weren't the most coveted titles). I bring them home and give them to him. He looks at me kind of blankly and then finally turns to the knife drawer and pulls out a steak knife. Hmmm. This could be interesting to watch. He starts slicing at the plastic wrap, to no avail. He starts making little stabbing motions to the wrapper while his knuckles get white. Now I see how CD cases get so many scratches on them.

I'm just standing there watching him. He keeps casting desperate glances my way, and I just know he wants me to offer to do it, but, hey, this is amusing! I finally take pity on him and open it. His eyes grow round and he asks incredulously, "How'd you do that?!"

We walk into the computer room and he hands me another case, still in the plastic wrap. It was a present for Christmas that he never listened to because he couldn't get the wrapper open. Geez...