Filed under: Musings of a Random Nature
My father doesn’t know how to properly tie his shoelaces. He can tie them, but he can’t get them to stay tied. His laces seriously come undone upwards of 20 times a day, at least when I’m with him. When we go to Caps’ games, we park about 3 blocks away from the arena because we can park there for 10 bucks or pay twice as much to park a block closer, and we’re cheap people. Pretty much every game, my father’s laces come untied either on the way to the game, the way back from the game, or, if I’m really lucky, both. And he won’t continue walking until the situation has been remedied, so we have to stop and do a pull over while he fixes the situation. It’s a little ridiculous, and it begs the question, how did I learn to successfully tie my shoelaces?
I assumed my mother must have taught me, but my father assures me it was him, and I believe him, because in most of my vague and distant childhood memories, he’s the star player on the life lessons front. He taught me to ride my bike, he taught me to drive, he helped me with my homework. I guess it’s just a fucking miracle that his shoelace-tying lessons didn’t end up severely hampering my abilities to walk my own path, as it were. On more than one occassion, my father has accused me of perhaps setting him up in some way to cause his laces to become untied. I’m not entirely sure how one would go about this, but my father lives in a general state of paranoia in which he believes that my mother and I conspire to make him think he’s going senile. Usually the real culprit is the fact that if you wake him up when he’s asleep, he won’t remember it the next day, so there have been many times when I was accused of not telling him I had made it home alive after a night of what he believed to be “drinking and partying and inappropriate behavior.” But really, I totally came home and woke him up and he just doesn’t remember. You would think he would remember b/c everytime I come home after dark the first question he asks me is, “Are you sober?” But no.
One time my mother and I asked him what he would do if we both died in a freak accident, leaving him all alone. I think the answer we were expecting was something along the lines of, “Cry myself to sleep every night” or “commit suicide and donate my body to science.” The answer we got was, “I don’t know, maybe I’d move to a tropical place and shack up with an island girl.”
Mom took that well. But when we first made a teasing comment about how we had better be careful or we’d be replaced with an island girl and island spawn, he asked us what we were talking about. He still claims he never said that and that my mother and I are colluding to make him look bad and drive him insane.
But I digress. Shoelaces. Untied. Frequently. Don’t know why he has such an issue, but I suspect it may be the shoes and/or laces. My father has worn the same pair of sneakers for pretty much my whole life. They are hard to find in stores now but he orders them online. So I figure maybe it’s just a flaw in the design or something.
I wore sneakers to work today and it’s 1:24pm and my laces have already come undone twice. This never happens to me. So I sent my dad the following text message:
My shoelaces have come undone twice today. Is this sabotage? Did you oil up my laces or something?
And my dad replied, via text:
ITS IN YOUR GENES.
And that is the continuing joy of my father learning how to text.
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