It's always interesting to come home and visit with my folks. It's about a 5 and half hour drive from my house to theirs. It's just far enough to ensure that weekend visits need to be planned.
When I arrived this afternoon my mom was folding laundry at the kitchen table. My father was sitting at the other end watching her fold his underwear and suddenly blurts out, "don't look at my underwear".
Me - are you talking to me?
Dad - Yes, it makes me uncomfortable.
Me - I've seen your underwear. I used to do the laundry when I was a teenager, and that included your underwear.
Dad - I don't remember that.
Me - It doesn't really matter whether you remember; I used to fold your underwear.
Then turning his attention to my mother he says..."Hey, 11 pairs of underwear, not bad for one week".
Mom - this two weeks, there should be 14 pairs here.
Me - Oh My God! Don't you change your underwear everyday? What's wrong with you?
My father just gives me a blank look and shakes his head.
Me - Well? Do you change your underwear everyday? It's totally gross if you don't.
Dad - When are you leaving? Don't you have to go back to Minnesota now?
Several hours later we are sitting in the family room watching TV, as a family, something that has been totally lost on me for the past 22 years, since I live alone. Anyway, I got up to go get a hair tie and when I returned to the family room, it was obvious some one had passed gas.
Me - Alright, who did that?
Dad - Did what?
Me - You know what? Who farted?
Dad - It was your mother.
Mom - It wasn't me, I have diarrhea; if I have to fart I have to go to the bathroom. Your father farted.
Dad - Why do yo always blame me?
Mom - Because it's you.
Dad - No one farted.
Me - Seriously, Dad. It didn't smell in here when I left and now it does. You farted. Why are you blaming Mom for your smelly fart?
Dad - When are you going back to Minnesota? Are you taking your mother with? Are you going to be here tomorrow?
Good times...I'll be here until Tuesday (maybe), so stay tuned.