Can of Worms

Today was a wonderful day off, I finally took care of lots of things that needed to be done, like laundry and taxes. My Dad was helping do my taxes, poor man. 'Daddy,' I would ask winningly (though probably more whine-ingly) 'What does this mean on line 8a?' In the midst of his patient explanation I will interrupt suddenly and snap, 'okay okay! I've got it!,' growling as I continue on with the tax form, 'Don't be so patronizing!' My grumbling would go on until the next problem, 'Daddy? line 10?' Basically it comes to this, even when I ask for help, I hate being told what to do. Especially by my parents. Its like there is a light switch in my head and when any kind of didactic information flows from my parents mouth I turn into mr. hyde-christa, having no patience or curtesy at all, lashing out like a crazed hyena. And then I get over it until they try to tell me to do something again. Thank goodness for reverse psychology otherwise my parents would have given me away long ago. My Dad comments that his 'revenge' will be that I will marry someone just like him (goofy, warm-hearted, generous, kind) so that I will have someone to tease, tell me what to do, and drive me crazy all the time. What a charming karma!! (love ya Dad mwah)