Kung Fu in the Kitchen


Usually I don't post... well... ever. Nah, that's a lie. I post semi-often... well... decent-often... or sorta-often? Maybe partial-kinda-often to be honest-ish. But there are days where events will spark a need to spill your chest, so to speak. Today is one of those days.

I've noticed in the past few months, perhaps even years, that my parents have been fighting more often. I don't know if it's because harsher times tend to leave a deeper mark on memories, but it seems as if there've been more fights than laughs. The problem is, I never know what they're arguing about because they shout in Chinese. Well, whatever it is, it's probably over something stupid.

UPDATE: I found Mother Routes sitting alone in the living room and asked her what their fight was about. Apparently she asked Father Routes what was in a certain box, he didn't like her tone, she insisted she didn't have a tone, he started yelling because he felt she was yelling, she yelled back, etc.

So yeah, stupid. Or as they would say: Bing da noya! Ay ya!


Not caring enough to discuss further,

Ricky
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