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Dad has his moments, but he doesn’t do much around the house. Every now and then, Mom gets fed up with him. A few weeks ago, she told him to iron his own shirts. He complained about a crease or something.
To his credit, he got the ironing done. Mom left the house and Dad brought the shirts to me. Ten of them. Two weeks’ worth. “I don’t need your mother,” he told me. “I’m a very independent man.”
Today, he complained about a new kind of cheese Mom used on his sandwich. She put the grocery list in his hand.
I picked him up after she left for painting class.
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