A Room Full of Cats

My dad likes to talk. A lot. I love him very much and on a long drive, he's great.

Yesterday, I was talking to him about my uncle. And then he started telling about this friend of my great aunt's. He was going on and on. Finally, I had to interrupt him to ask him if he had a point. To which he replied, "Well, she died." I started laughing so hard. There was absolutely no connection between the topics of conversation. NOTHING! And then he just ignored my laughter and started in on something new! LOL

Tonight, I phoned mom just to find out if they were going to come visit me this weekend because she had told me earlier that they were. It was a short conversation and we were done. But then dad had picked up the other line and was wanting to talk to me. I just started giggling because of the conversation last night. He knew why I was laughing so he asked me what I was going to do when I had to take care of him. It's obvious - stick him in a room full of cats to talk to all day. He hates all the cat hair everywhere so I told him I'd vacuum often. How was I going to vacuum without having to talk to him? Sedation in the food I put under the door, of course! It was at that point he finally called me bad. Heh. My dad talking to a room full of cats. It'd either be a hit comedy or something the likes of About Schmidt.

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4 comments:

Jenn & Owen said...

Somehow I'm morally certain that this is the fate that awaits me, although without the vacuuming. I hope they're nice cats.

cenobyte said...

Another thing you can do with someone who talks a lot is put them in a room with a six-year-old who also talks a lot, because then eventually one of them will burn out and go to sleep.

Suz said...

Doesn't one of them have to at least feign paying attention to what the other one is saying?

cenobyte said...

Apparently not.

Thanks for the quackers, by the way.

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