The remote’s gone:
“The remote’s gone!” my father said accusingly. He glared at my mother and then at me as though somehow I might have been involved as co-conspirator.
“Yes, it has,” my mother replied, “I’ve hidden it because I’m sick of your bullshit lazy ways not helping me and your annoying habit of flicking through all the channels and never really watching anything.”
Wow. My mother had never once said a thing against my father but then again, maybe she’d finally had enough. God knows I’d had enough of him.
She went on. “If you can’t contribute to the house like a proper decent man, then get out. I don’t want you here.”
I expected my father to go into one of his rages but he didn’t. He just sat there, stunned, possibly as much as I was.
My mother had finally come into her own and wasn’t going to let anyone walk all over her again. I guess that meant she wouldn’t be picking up after me anymore either.
“And you,” she said, looking at me, “Don’t expect me to pick up after you anymore! You have two hands, do it yourself.”
She’d just added mind reader to her repertoire.