So I came home from work today and there was a kindle addressed to me that I did not remember ordering. I spent the afternoon trying to figure out how I accidentally purchased a kindle from Amazon, and when I came back from hanging out with Catherine, I told my parents, guys, you will not believe what I accidentally ordered for myself.
“Huh,” said Dad very casually. “Did you get charged for it?”
I spent the next five minutes checking my bank account and came back into the living room to announce, “No, I didn’t. Do you think it’s a mistake? But it has my name on it! what does this mean”
It was around the time that I started to sound panicked that Dad confessed to buying it for me (“I didn’t realize the mystery of it would be so terrifying”). Which was very, very sweet and slightly unfortunate because yesterday I purchased a replacement kindle for myself.
So anyway, we now have a family kindle
Me and Mom were talking about the kindle this morning, and she told me about how a few weeks ago, she got into her car only to discover that it had been mysteriously cleaned.
“But who would do this?” she said to my father who said he was sure he had no idea. “A student? A stranger? Someone who broke into my car to steal it but felt bad about how dirty it was? WHO??”
Eventually Dad was like, “Honey. It was clearly me.”
Poor Dad just wants to be a man who expresses his love through silent actions, but his family consists of panicked, suspicious women who apparently are very sure that strangers will ominously do nice things for us
