Father-in-law staying with his dog which is a mixture of a beagle and a basset hound. Rock solid low energy medium sized dog that wants to eat my cat.

Him: We don't know what was in those docs so we should keep on looking forever and and what about this? And what about that? And biden's all at fault.

Me: when you were a cop if you found me with a box of classified docs you would arrest me and I would go away forever. Right? Right. You know it and I know it. So? Should he be treated any differently? No? Exactly.

Him: no one was trying to kill anybody on Jan 6.

Me: b*******. If you were a cop trying to protect the capital on Jan 6, how would you feel? What about those cops that died on that day? You saw it. You know it. Don't you b******* me.

Every political discussion ends up me merely smiling at him and say "okay Trump's lawyer. You're looking for a distraction but you know better."

Waiting for the drugs to kick in. When those nerves slow down my brain unclenches a little and I can deal with him. Haven't done any Xanax yet, but that's probably going to be on the schedule in a day or two. He's going to be hanging out my living room for the next 2 months


1 hour later after having him watch about 3 minutes of Stephen Colbert. That was a mistake. We won't be doing that again.

M is dealing with a very bad customer service call. They stole her money and she wants it back and is pissed, rightly so.

He said bring your gun and knock on the door. You whack the first one and the rest of them them will fall in line.

He's done this before I am sure.

He knew his entire career to keep his mouth shut.

We have a routine. He gets up around 6:00 and hangs out downstairs for a couple of hours. I'm upstairs waiting until time. Around 8:00 I open up the door and the dog comes bounding in. He wanders up a couple minutes later and M makes him some coffee. He settles in the couch and we watch news for a while.

Then we put on some type of long running series on. My lord he loves the Blue bloods. He loves that Tom Selleck old cop in charge of the family shtick. Holy s*** he loves this show.

He just got another announcement of another great grandchild. He giggles. He's so loves the little ones. Be fruitful and multiply and he did his job. He has no idea of the total count at this point. No one does, there are so many.

Sometimes when he walks into the room, I'm currently watching something that I know to quickly turn off. I watch a lot of YouTube videos from the Meidas touch network channel. That's a lefty lawyer who does great analysis. He saw some headline and demanded I click in. Bad idea. No you must do it. Fine old man, let's get you seething. I walk into the kitchen and tell M that an explosion about to happen.

He lived in Florida for many years. He loves his DeSantos. He think it's perfectly reasonable to incent people to travel from Texas to Florida and then fly them up to Martha's vineyard. Nothing wrong with that. But Ben on the TV is explaining how illegal this is and that deSantos should go to jail for this and the screaming starts.

Of course I am not helpful. I don't consider him demented at this point. He had a concussion about a year ago and he spent about 6 months of recovery. But I can tell the sharp old man is back. So I'm perfectly willing to tell him that if you wish to have a discussion you can't bullshit. Start with agreed upon facts and don't distract from the point or we don't have a discussion. The discussion gets loud. It's no longer a discussion. At this point M steps in.

I realize that the dog in the hear me when I subvocalize. I can barely hear me in my head and the dog can hear me across the room and follows my direction. This is a very nice well-trained dog with incredible hearing.

The dog wanders around all day and that means my cat hangs out in my bedroom. I feel like I'm cheating on my cat when I pet the dog. I go into the bedroom and hang out with the cat as well. We have to keep the door fully shut because the dog comes in and eats the cat food. But the litter box is on the other side of the house. So I kick him and the dog out halfway through the day for an hour so my cat can run freely to her litter box and then we do it again until around 7:00 at night.

M is really good at setting up the food. I can take care of myself, barely. I eat when I'm hungry and not that much. But to schedule meals with someone who has to eat at a given time? Don't trust me with that. We'd all starve. So on days when M works she leaves around noon and there's something to put in the microwave or for me to cook.

He reminds me of Peter Griffith's father on Family Guy.