*grump*

*sigh* Well, the play was kind of a wash-out. Oh, things went fine on the practical side. It snowed lightly all day yesterday and the driving was tricky, but nothing like the nightmare it would have been Friday night. The theatre is located in a part of Worcester I happen to know, so we got there without a single hitch. The parking garage across the street is dedicated to the Hanover Theatre, and they had more staff directing traffic in the parking garage and inside the theatre than I’ve ever seen. I was a little surprised to have to pay at the door for parking when I pulled in, though–good thing I had $10! (I dropped dad off at the theatre door.) But I guess that makes a lot of sense considering the traffic jam there was after the show, as it was.

The theatre, we learned, was massively renovated and held a “grand opening” in March. It’s utterly stunning inside, and I enjoyed the production. The trouble is–my dad hated it. He didn’t seem to be in the mood for it to begin with, and by Intermission he was already sniping and criticizing the show. At the end of the show, most of the audience gave the cast a standing ovation, but dad sat scowling in his seat, in fact, I don’t even think he applauded much. Then he couldn’t get out of the theatre fast enough, when I would have preferred to wait for the crowds to clear out–lots of families with kids, I’m happy to let them go first. I wasn’t in any rush. But dad was, and he was taking out all his irritation on me. He took offense at everything I said (and I hardly said anything!) and finally picked a big fight with me over one little thing and told me I was “mean.” So we didn’t say another word to each other the entire hour-long drive home. I know that when dad is in these moods anything I say or do, no matter how innocuous, will just give him ammunition, and he was damned if he was going to say anything if I didn’t. What a precious pair we are, eh? *wry look* I thanked him several times for getting the tickets and everything (and also thanked him copiously for changing the tickets to Saturday, which I did not ask or even hint for him to do), but he never said a word of thanks to me for driving us there and back.

I gritted my teeth and gave dad a hug and wished him a Happy Solstice when we got back to his house, but I was not a happy camper. My feelings were really hurt.

I’ve been feeling very out of sorts ever since. This whole trip was dad’s idea from the beginning! He was the one who said, back in September, that he wanted to do “some Christmas things,” and picked out three specific things that he wanted to do, and asked me if I’d like to come along for any of them. Mind you, he never asked me if there was something I would like to do. No one ever does that. My family make all their plans down to the last detail and then call me up and say, “we’re doing x, y and z, would you like to tag along?” I can say yes or no, that’s the limit of my input. Anything I want to do, I do alone, or not at all.

So my dad picked out this show, and got the tickets, and I just went along to keep him company. I like theatre, but I would never have done this on my own. It’s not my fault that he really wasn’t in the mood for the outing by the time the date came along. A musician friend of dad’s died in surgery recently, and they haven’t even been able to hold the funeral because his church didn’t have their power restored. I know dad is really upset about that (his friend was 53, only a year older than me! And he died, dad says, due to an egregious medical error). Dad is unhappy about the weather and about his power being off for so long and the fact that rehearsals for his church’s Christmas Eve service have been totally screwed up by the power outages. But that’s not my fault! My life has been pretty fucked up by the power outages and weather, too! But I put dad up in my house for four days and lavished him with TLC! I sent him home with a gallon of homemade food! I helped him solve the computer problem he was ripping his hair out over! And my reward is to get treated like shit. Gods.

I sure hope he behaves better when Jill, he and I all go to “The Nutcracker” in Boston on the 27th. That’s another of dad’s picks that I am not at all enthusiastic about doing–partly because dad makes it so much harder. With dad going, we’ll have to drive, and park, and deal with Boston traffic. If I had a choice, I’d take the T! Fuck driving in Boston! But dad can’t walk that much, and he wouldn’t if he could, anyway. I got the tickets for the ballet, so I know where everything is, at least. I don’t know what I’m going to wear, though. I was going to go clothes shopping, or maybe sew something, before the weather and everything else intervened. Jill’s the Golden Girl, though, so dad doesn’t usually pull this shit on her. I’m the one who always gets it.