Conversations I did not want to have with my father this morning:

Me: "Will you quit touching my stuff?" (As I'm sorting out what goes into the suitcase and what goes to charity)

Pops: "This looks cool, what does this do?" (Holds up an item obnoxiously)

Me: (internally headdesking because why that thing of all the things?) "Okay I wash that when I'm done with it but it still goes where the sun don't shine. Put it the fuck down."

That was some hard earned peace and quiet.

Yeah...

...and then I spilled lube in the suitcase

/stares at it in dismay

I'm somewhat impressed that he didn't recognize it. :|a

I'm not.