We Put The Fun In Dysfunctional

Driving to work this morning I felt good. Interpol's NYC infused the interior of my car with song and then the notes trickled out of my open windows. I felt calm and content. The sun didn't blind my eyes as it did the day before, but rather warmed my Vitamin D deficient skin. No cars cut in front of me. I didn't have to wait behind a slow driver. I cruised into the parking garage wishing I could sit in the sun all day and listen to Interpol.

Flash forward.

9:15 a.m.
Phone rings.

Me: This is Lauren.
Dad (whining): You didn't call me back yesterday.
Me: Sorry Dad. You know I never check my answering machine at home. I didn't get the message until 11:30 last night. Why didn't you call me at work or on my cell? (any and every other day he does this).
Dad (sulking): I don't know. I'll do that next time. I wanted to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day.
Me: Well Happy Valentine's Day to you too!
Dad: Have you talked to Mom? I've tried to call her since her surgery but have gotten no response (I'll mention here that my parents have been divorced for about 14 years and my Dad has been remarried for 10).
Me: What surgery?
Dad: She didn't tell you about her surgery?
Me: Uh, no?
Dad: Maybe I shouldn't tell you then.
Me: Um, what surgery dad?
Dad: Well, she had one of those chin tuck things for the wedding.

Right.

I'm gonna need a lot more than Interpol to process this one.