The Inevitable

There's a certain inevitability that we all face. We see it coming, more and more with each passing year, although we try to deny it, or at least to postpone it. We rationalize that it's only partly true, but then witness partly turn to mostly, until one day we give in to the realization.

This is a little off topic from what I usually write about here, but it's only taken me two-plus weeks of living in my new home to realize the inevitable. That is, I am my father. Actually, it's only true that I'm much more like my father than I even realized. There are still a few distinct differences, but I expect these will be erased over time.

What makes me say that I am my father? First of all, let me admit that I began noticing these tendencies many years ago, but several new factors have really driven this point home. I'll get to those in a moment. First let me share a few of the responses I got, from those who know my father best, when I made the following declaration on Facebook:

Only two weeks into living in and owning my first house, and already it's obvious how much I am my father.

• "You fell asleep in the comfy chair watching TV and snored so loudly the next-door neighbors could hear it?"
• "Oh how scary!! Are you fixing everything with duct tape? Just wait 'til it's time to put up the Christmas lights."
• "Have you mastered the deep throat grumble grandpa always does?"

But, of course, none of these are what I was talking about, although the first two have the most potential to come true. No, actually, the behaviors that have convinced me of how I've become my father are as follows:

• Religiously checking that the thermostat has been lowered to the proper temperature, and the bolts on the doors have been locked, before going to bed.
  (Actually, I don't have to turn down the main thermostat before going to bed, because it's programmable, but programming it was one of the first things I did after moving in.)
  
• I explained to KJ how a leaf could cause the garage door sensor to activate, resulting in the door reversing direction.
• I offered to back the car out of the garage because only I could possibly understand the precision with which I parked the car in the first place. 

While we're on the latter subject, in my childhood home, I was the only driver (out of four, including dad) who never hit the basketball pole due to cutting the steering wheel too quickly while backing out. Of course, I was the youngest and was off to college only a year or so after getting my license, but this is still a point of pride for me.

While I haven't completely become my dad just yet, these are among the future behaviors of mine that KJ has to look forward to:

• Walking around the house turning off the lights in rooms that are not in use, asking the question, "Are you done in here?" in the process.
• Preaching against leaving the water running while lathering up the soap on one's hands.
• Rolling up towels against door crevices that could be letting just the slightest bit of cold air in.
• While reading the newspaper and magazines, underlining certain parts for emphasis and writing notes to no one in particular in the margins.

I just have to say that it's a good thing KJ finds my dad adorable. We'll see how she feels when she's living full-time with an exact replica of him.