my father

[Drunk Monk]

I spent all of yesterday at the nursing home. I helped my dad with his PT by playing catch with him with a balloon and progressively bigger balls. It was odd because my dad and I never did that father & son playing catch thing before. Dad was a tool user. He played tennis and golf. He didn't throw and catch, he swung and volleyed. I'm a tool user too, but I preferred to hit people with sticks and swords, not balls (even better when I could hit someone in the balls with a stick or sword). Anyway, my dad is doing progressively better and the nursing home thinks he can return home in a week. He'd use a walker and we'd have to install railings everywhere. My mom, however, is less confident. I think she's still pretty shaken about the initial fall and doesn't feel comfortable being his caretaker anymore. It's been ten years. So we'll see how much he might improve over the next week.

This is so fucking exhausting. I haven't been sleeping well and the commute has been kicking my ass with traffic accidents. Plus I haven't been in Kung Fu for 2-3 months now - my longest break ever - because my school closed. It's making me really angry. Kung Fu is my psychological vent. Just today, I fucked up and deleted a file I needed (it was small so I could rebuild it) but I was so pissed that I went out and kicked the shit out of some flats stored in our parking lot. I should really mount a striking pad here somewhere. Fortunately, I've had a very kind invitation from one of my monk friends to begin training again under him next week. Hopefully, I won't kill anyone before that or break my hand punching out a wall.