My father came home today with a few sniffles and somehow it escalated into voluntary exile. He’s been in his room all day – alone – with the door closed. Once in a while I’ll call out “hello” from the hallway, to which he replies, “hi!”
He doesn’t want to get me ill. Now there’s love, eh? Mind you, I don’t think he’s actually sick . . . since when is a sniffle sick? He’s just being overly-highly-excessively cautious. Actually, it’s pretty sweet.
See you soon, Dad. Love you too.