(Laura + Dad) - Mom = no food.

My mother is an avid china painter. She used to paint dishes that she wouldn't let us eat wet food off of (which left only cookies and crackers), because of the lead in the china paint. The china paint gods now make paint that isn't hazardous to your health, but we still only use them for cookies and crackers. Mom doesn't just paint dishes, she paints bowls, vases, platters, all kinds of dishware, and a lot of them are displayed throughout our house.

Anyway, Mom is away all week at a china painting seminar, so it's just me and Dad at the house. We live more like college students than father and daughter. We eat together, but our dinners so far have consisted of Chicken Voila (with added vegetables), dried fish and Spam. (Don't look at me like that, Spam is damn good.) Oh, with rice of course, that goes without saying.

Usually, when Mom was around, I ate dinner around 8:00 with her, and we'd just serve Dad his dinner later when he got home from making rounds. Then I'd go to bed at 1:00 or 2:00 am. Because my dad and I are both night owls, we ate dinner at 12:00 am. It's 12:30 now and I'm not the least bit sleepy. I'll be lucky if I fall asleep in an hour. Hopefully, we won't have a repeat of this morning. Usually, Mom is kind enough to wake Dad and I up before she goes to work so we can be at the clinic on time. This morning, I remember Dad yelling "Laura! It's 7:30!" and we're both supposed to leave the house at 8:00 so we can be at work before 9:00. I think Dad showered in less than a minute. I foolishly fell asleep, woke up fifteen minutes later and proceeded to run like crazy around the house looking for a shirt appropriate for an office setting and knee high nylons, all while brushing my teeth and my hair at the same time.

I took a nap when I got home.

So anyway, at dinner (about ten minutes ago) there was a 20 oz. plastic bottle half full of Coca-Cola on the table.

Dad: Oh, who's is this?

Laura: I think it's Mom's.

Dad: Why don't you throw it away?

Laura: (laughing) I don't know. I think I left it on the table because it's like Mom's still here, you know? Sitting on our table.

Dad: I'm throwing it out.

Laura: Okay.

I hear the hissing escape of gas as Dad opens the bottle to dump the contents down the sink. Then I watch him stop, screw the top back on and walk towards the refridgerator.

Dad: Eh, maybe I'll save it til your mom gets back. (as he puts the bottle in the fridge.)