The state of his room is a genuine puzzle. I truly don't understand. For about the last couple of years I've ascribed the behaviour to a kind of extreme passive aggression.
"Please clean up your room." [I want you to clean up your room.]
"Yes, I will." [But I won't because that will annoy you.]
"Please, I asked you to clean your room. It is filthy. When are you going to do it? [You lazy fucker, get up there and clean your room. NOW!]
"Yes, I will. I know. I will get around to it/I've started." [Get off my back you bitch, but not too quickly because I'm enjoying seeing you upset about this. And I'll show you the extent to which you can get me to do anything, however reasonable that might be.]
This has been going on for ever, or perhaps it just feels like that. He is the most miserable bastard alive and I wish he would just die. Drop dead. I'd love it. Telling my daughter that her father had popped his clogs wouldn't be fun, but she's seen me curled up in distress at his antics. She's caught him taking money from her Christmas/Birthday cards. She knows he isn't perfect.
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