Hermits Rock

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Last week was disheartening, so much so that I felt like I needed to speak to both of my parents about it before the weekend was up. The best way to describe it is through metaphor: after having wandering for a year, lost in the wilderness and living on roots and berries, I stumbled into a remote town where I discovered that, despite the fact I had AAA, the only map to show the way home would cost my right arm.

Dad: “Did you know that my sister had the same thing happen to her? She really wanted to come home, but she decided to stay in the wilderness.”

“I didn’t know that she was here, too,” I replied. “What’s her address? Maybe I should talk to her.”

“Just be sure you don’t buy a fake map.”

“There’s only the one.”

“Did I tell you about the cat I took to the vet last week?”



I dunno, my dad is pretty emotionally unavailable. He sounds about like yours.

Your claims are nothing without evidence, young Padawan.

He just sort of sits there watching TV or playing golf. He spends the rest of his time not responding to any conversation that doesn’t involve TV or golf.

Ah, now that sounds familiar, especially if you replace “tv” with “Mythbusters.”

Oh, pops loves him some Mythbusters. At least he did in 2003.