Dad: the saga continues.

"Where were you last night?"

Dad's interrogating me AGAIN.

"Where did you sleep?"

Ridiculous questions, really. Firstly, I was at home. Secondly, I slept in my own bed, at home, in my bedroom. I mean, he of all people should know. He cooked dinner last night, which I even ate in front of him.

He soon remembered. But then not as much as an apology from him afterward. Instead, he launched into another barrage of questions.

"What time did you get home tonight? Where were you? Who were you with?"

Umm, I was at uni until late. I was with uni people. All this and the night is still relatively young.

I'm beginning to think that telling my parents about the mugging was more trouble than it was worth. I've gotten over it. Why can't they?


Listening to:
Title: 60 Miles an Hour
Artist: New Order
Album/station: International (2002)
Length: 4.35