(no subject)

[wickedflea]

Just talked to Dad for half an hour or so. My Grandmother had told me that he had fallen on campus a few days ago and sprained his ankle fairly badly. He said he's getting around a lot better than he was this weekend, but he's still hobbling a bit. He's planning to go to Houston next week for a conference for people who studied under a particular professor at UT who I guess was hot shit and pioneered some sort of method for teaching mathematics. He tends to chicken out of making long trips, but he sounded pretty amped about it, so I think he'll probably go. I hope so, because it always does him so much good to get out of his routine and do something he enjoys. I think he was really glad I called, too. I usually wait for him to call me, and he's fine with that, but it was good to call him this time.

I can't believe he's going to be 71 fucking years old in a couple of months. He's been forty years older than me my entire life, of course, but wow -- 71. I guess that means I'm going to be 31 later this year, huh? Cripes.


I'm listening to muffled dialogue from some bad TV show at top volume thanks to the maniac next door. I saw him getting out of his car the other day, and he was wearing all blue, and his jacket had some gold insignia on the side. I couldn't tell if it was a police jacket or some kind of security guard jacket. He's probably home too much to be a real cop. He's probably a wannabe cop. *shudder* That would explain the non-stop crime drama on the television.

Comments

[buscemi.livejournal.com]

I bet that security guard does a really bad Travis Bickle impersonation.

[wickedflea.livejournal.com]

Ooooh, that's a scary thought. That's the kind of thing that makes me reluctant to go banging on his door. "You talkin' to me?" "Er, sorry -- wrong apartment."