Actually, my dad is driving me crazy. I was washing the dishes, when he asked about the bar-b-q that we used on Sunday, and he claims that we didn't make sure that the gas tank was full. My mouth was gaping open when I recalled phoning him on his cellphone; he was out working, and mom wanted to know if the tank was full, so when I called him, he said that since he last filled it, as far as he knew, the tank is good to go, and now he's saying that not only were we careless and that it wasn't full, but that I never listen to him. He's pointing an aggressive finger at me, which is my number one pet peeve, yet I just stood there in disbelief that either his memory is rotting away, or he's in denial. In the past, whenever I try to argue with him, he just makes more noise just so he could win. Can't win an argument with the man. I just finished up the dishes, grabbed my coffee and walked away while he kept on babbling on about what was wrong with the house, the same house that he neglects working on. The doorbell doesn't work, the screen in the back window was ripped and hasn't been replaced (my mom wants me to do it today), the basement is disorganised with his Flea Market crap that it's impossible to roam around there freely, cold air seeps in during the winter months, and so on. I keep these things in mind whenever dad claims that I do nothing around the house, and yakety yakety yak.