When I talked to my mother earlier today, she informed me that my sister’s boyfriend would be working for/with my father this week.  This is simultaneously delightfully quaint in a sort of 50’s Americana type of way and deeply, deeply disturbing.  They will be bonding over manual labor and floor installation, perhaps sharing a Bud Light after work before he takes my place at the kitchen table to a meal prepared by my mother.  Then, he will pass the night in my bed so as to be geographically convenient for the next morning when the cycle will resume.

It’s not that I’m concerned that he’s replacing me (although, I am mildly disturbed that he sleeps in my bed when I’m not there) or that he’s eating my mother’s cooking—because she doesn’t cook, that was merely an illustrative elaboration—because he is terribly creepy and awkward and uncomfortable to spend any sort of time with and also inherently lazy.  He is in no way the roustabout sort and I have deliriously wonderful mental images of this being (one) of the absolute worst ideas my father has ever had.  I would kill to be able to sit and watch this happen.