Chapter Two

You just can't make this stuff up.

Well, let’s see… I’m sitting here in the room I grew up in with my dad in the room down the hall, who will turn 80 next month. He isn’t speaking to me and is avoiding me, for his own reasons.

As we age, things become more sublime, more complex and more sensitive I’m finding. You can’t just blurt out the truth anymore, which has something to do with the age we’re now in as well. People have much thinner skins than in the past, and there’s a lot less testosterone going around. It’s like walking on eggshells for those who care.

I have an irrational, narcissistic, Alzheimer 's-ridden, dry-alcoholic man who’s in arrested development from age 3 on my hands with no education, critical thinking, or social skills living beside me. Again (minus the dementia.)

Want to trade?