There aren't enough lotus flowers in the world

What I've learned from my four full days here is that all I can take is four full days here, under the best circumstances; three are better.

The best circumstances: it's nice out, so it's easy to get outside; I saw three different friends (one, twice) and spent a good chunk of three of the four days away from my parents. And they're still driving me up the wall. Yes, they.

We got out for that walk just in time (mom got over herself about when I finished the last post). Mom had a fit because she didn't like where dad parked, so she had to yell at him about it in the street for at least five minutes, but then we went for a nice leisurely walk. I wasn't quite nervous as we were getting back to the car, but I was annoyed by mom's dilly-dallying.

Dad: She'll just do it on purpose if she senses that you're in a hurry. You know she loves to dilly-dally at other people's expense.
A.: Yes, yes I do.

I know that dad deals with a lot of crap and I need to keep cutting him slack, but I'm just continually frustrated with his inability to deal with things. Like dust. Can he really not get a real vacuum, and vacuum? This lack of domestic skill manifests itself in particular with food. You've heard me complain about how he doesn't refrigerate things as needed and how he makes bread stale faster. But it's only partly about food; it's more about not listening.

We got back exactly fifteen minutes before a friend was going to pick me up, so I took the opportunity to start cooking chard for dinner (I'd just turn it off and leave it covered when I left) and set tofu to drain. When I got back, the tofu was back in its water, but whatever; dad couldn't know the purpose of bricking tofu. I set the chard aside into a bowl so I could use the pan for the tofu.

Dad: I'm going to try the chard.
A.: Okay, but it's not very good as it is. I'm going to mix it with the tofu when it's done.

Dad tries the chard.

Dad: It doesn't taste like much.
A.: Okay, mom.
Dad: It needs more seasoning.
A.: Right?
Dad: I'm just telling you my opinion.
A.: And I'm telling you that I just told you that it wasn't going to taste like much yet, so why are you telling me that it doesn't taste like much?

Yesterday, the same thing happened with corn tortillas.

Dad: These aren't very good.
A.: [Eye roll] I told you to wrap something in them. Corn tortillas are only good plain when they're fresh.
Dad: They're just really bland.
A.: What did I just say (for the second time)?

***
The phone rang. Dad told mom not to answer it, but she did. With the TV at full volume. Who does that? That was a rhetorical question; they do it to me all the time (or even call me when it's on) and I have to tell them to turn off the sound.

As we speak, my parents are fighting over what to do over a repeat phone call from what may or may not be Capital One credit cards (the other possibility is that it's a phishing scam). I had to interject at one point with, "OK EVERYONE BE QUIET, NOW!" because I couldn't take it.

Mom: They're just around the corner; we can go talk to them in person.
A.: The bank is not affiliated (or very loosely affiliated) with the credit card company. The branch will be of no help to you. Here's what you're going to do...
Mom: But they're just over there.
A.: What did I just say? Anyway, when I get fraud-inquiry calls, they leave a message, and these guys haven't been leaving messages so I'm skeptical. But if there is fraud on your card...
Mom: Let's just go over there.
A.: I give up.

She's been going on and on and on--she's said "let's just go over there" ten times since I first typed up the conversation.

Mom: Why call? That just complicates things. Why not just go over there.

In between, she also got a rant in there about how dad moved the cans from the basement to the pantry.