The old man has figured out that I feel too bad I can't yell at him so he can continue to do shit things.

Him: Hey when you call out at 1:30 let's go get lunch at this local chicken place, my treat.
Also Him: Actually I didn't go back to bed after dropping your mother off, let me take a nap until 3.
Also Him: Okay I slept until 3:30 despite you waking me up repeatedly, give me a minute to do a few things and someone is coming by real quick.

Also Him: [Pointedly ignoring me as I stare at him now that it's 4:15 and lunch specials are over.]

Bro. I'm fuckin' diabetic. I cannot just on a lark ignore meals for hours on end because you wanted to sleep longer. I now feel like dogshit.

All he had to do was go "okay man sorry make lunch" and I would have grumbled but now it's like, cool, nah, just gonna sit here feeling real bad.

...I think I hear snoring.

in
credible.

"Isn't your dad also diabetic?" Yeah, but he's a sixty year old man so he eats far less, and typically my mom will make him something in the morning when she makes her breakfast, so my guess is he's eaten about half a pumpkin pie since 6am and is nice and cozy with his calorie bomb.

uuuughhhhh

Update: we are now at lunch. It is 5:10.

Coda: my dad ignored the valid advice of "look for what's fresh at the buffet" and got sick.