Being busy (as always) and only able to look as far ahead as the next day, I wasn't really ready to leave school. There was still a lot that was undone and other things I wanted to do (like attend Gaming Night last Saturday evening and finish a World Wonder in Tetris). I wanted to leave on Sunday, but my father decided that he didn't want to do that (he wanted to "work" at a gun show). So, he decided for me that Saturday was the best option. I wasn't looking forward to the experience, and perhaps appropriately enough Saturday just got better and better with each passing moment.
Signing up for a checkout time Friday evening, I discovered that 1:30 was the latest I could sign out on Saturday (due to the RA wanting to go home for the evening, or something. I don't know, it's besides the point now). I called my father and reported this to him. He was very sluggish on the phone, and was very upset about the checkout time, more or less because it wasn't convenient for him (it meant that he couldn't leave at noon). Being difficult, he told me to tell him what to do. Me being me, I thought that he was a 49-year old man and he'd made the trip before, he better damn know well what to do already. But I told him that he needed to do whatever he needed to do in order to be at school at 1 p.m. sharp Central Time (so we could have a little bit of time to load). He then made me figure out what time he had to leave, and told me to give him a wakeup call.
What the forking heck, dad? But whatever. I gave him his damn wakeup call, and he didn't even remember that he wanted one.
Saturday was difficult. I hadn't slept very much, was still sick, but busted my butt anyway to get things done. I realized that I could not remember what I had done with my bank card since I last used it on Monday (right before I got really sick). I tore my room apart, but to no avail. I skipped breakfast to pack, went to my last final, discovered that it had started snowing while I was writing about the "harmony" of modern Japan, then ate a bit, and then went to go pack pack and clean clean clean. I was finished a little after one, but he still hadn't shown up.
I figured this was to be expected. My father is hardly ever on time for anything. Realizing that my checkout time was just around the corner, my roommates and I shoved the stuff I decided that I had to take home, come hell or high water, into the common room. My RA showed up around 2 to check out, and my father still wasn't around. I hadn't heard from him, either, since that stupid wakeup call thing.
Tired, tense, pissy, bankcard still MIA, and generally growing more visibly irritated, I basically was walking that fine line of social sanity. My father called somewhere around three (might have been earlier, I don't remember anymore). I expected that he was calling from downstairs, that he was here, but no. He said he was an hour and a half away. What. The. Fuck.
I had a small tantrum in the common room. I kicked a few things, tried my best to look ferocious, and then I put on my coat and scarf and went for a walk. It was truly a pathetic moment on my part ... the image I portrayed was just so ... MegaTokyo. o_o The campus was very quiet, it was very cold, the wind was blowing, and here was a crying girl walking through the falling snow.
I couldn't help it ... though I knew this sort of behavior from him was to be expected. Though it's happened before ... though it will doubtless happen again ... it just ... it makes me feel extremely devalued as a daughter. I don't like having to realize that my worth is questionable. Then on top of that, I don't like reminding myself (and I always do) that so many others have it so much worse, and that even my unhappiness is of questionable quality.
His time estimate was also off. He didn't show up until around five Central Time (remember, I told him to be at school at one Central sharp). He was about to make a typical snide comment about the things I wanted to take home, until I cut him off and informed him that such remarks were entirely unnecessary, and instead of making them, we should be putting things in the car.
The drive home took forever. Because he was so late, we were on the road much later at night than he was prepared to handle. We had to stop frequently to let him sleep for a little bit, and while I accept this over death, if he had just been on time in the first place, it wouldn't be an issue! Gas stations and rest stops are really creepy in the snow at 11 at night.
I got home, bitched to a more sympathetic audience, and went to bed. Typing all this about something in the end very stupid has also sapped my energy, so I think I shall sleep.
Oh yeah! In uber-good news, though all my final scores aren't in yet, I scraped by this semester with a 3.47.