70 Facts About You...

[Nikolaj]

Karma just kicked me in the nuts. Typed 2 things above about my dad. Five minutes ago the phone rang, at 5:10 a.m. He wants me to come over and pick him up off the floor- he weighs 27o to my 160. It's collld out.
I haven't taken any meds yet. I told him to grab pillows and extra blankets and get comfortable til I get there. "Dad, it's 5 am"
"I don't care what time it is"
-Clearly.
I want to help him up, and will, but gosh- the motorized contraptions in small proximity and the sloth and gothic demands before daylight, even. What for?
See, I would just make myself as comfortable as possible on the floor if it were me. Lots of pillows and fur throws, plus if he really thought about it, he'd find a way back on to his scooter or bed. Am I supposed to cripple myself lifting him?
He can't walk anyway, what the ef difference does it make where he lays, sits, or slobs around?
Call ME in the dead of night. Stop typing, bad son. Your mother's husband has bellowed.
Fat ****.
Update: Reprieve, of sorts. Was pulling out of my driveway to go to their house, when I saw an ambulance leaving their driveway. After dad first hung up with me, my mom called 911 and they made it there in 10 minutes to my 15, and lifted him back onto the scooter. I called him from the cell: "Yeah, they just left, go back to sleep, don't come over."
Brrr. Thank you Mom, and thank you 911. It took me 15 minutes to type most of the above, get dressed, change my socks, sip 4 swigs of coffee and down an adderall, and a minute to badly scrape off the windshield with defrosters running. Sigh. Better 911's back than mine.
Back in bed with the baby girlcat. Think I will pop 'Mommie Dearest' into the dvd player. Too bad my dad isn't famous. I could write a **** of a movie based on my 4000 years of being his son.