Chapter Two: Chores..I hate them

Wet food. God, it just feels weird as I pull out of the sink, throwing it into the trashcan that I had dragged out from the dining room, placing it right beside me. I turned on the water, lukewarm, pouring a bit of soap on the sponge, scrubbing the dishes, which in all took me about 15 minutes, which included washing and drying, putting away. I moved onto vacuuming next, my little brother sitting on the floor, doing some of the work he has, asking questions. I was quite smart in math and reading, but in anything else? Hopeless. I got over to the old radiator and kicked it, hearing it start up.

I'm quite strong, but the radiator was metal, and it fucking hurt to kick. I could feel the bruise forming, Christ. Wouldn't be the first bruise of the day though. "Hey, Yui?" I ask.

"Yeah, Keo?" He looks up from the sheet of paper he was writing on.

"Can you go in my room and grab my ice pack? I think I just bruised my foot really bad."

He nods, running off into the depths of the house, up the winding stairs, getting my door open, grabbing the ice-pack out of the freezer of my mini fridge and coming back down, clearly winded. He hands me it and flops onto the floor, huffing and panting.

I had hobbled into the kitchen to start to prepare dinner, a meal of beef stroganoff. What? I had almost freezer-burnt meat that I needed to use. I put the frozen meat in a bowl of luke-warm water, and hobbled off to the couch, where I wrapped the icepack in a old pillowcase, letting it rest on my foot, while I tied it to my foot with a old sock as well. I gave it about 10 minutes.

I really did struggle to get up from the couch. I swear, its a lot harder then it looks. Anyway, I made my way (while clinging to the wall, of course) back to the kitchen, and grab the meat, pot and sauces. I attempt to get the pasta from the top shelf without having to climb the counter, but that didn't seem to be happening today. Oh well.

Honestly, It wasn't that difficult to make, so here we go. I put the meat in a pan with some butter, salt, pepper, and garlic salt. while that was starting to cook, I chopped some fresh garlic and onion and tossed that in as well. I let that cook until it was almost done, then filled the pot with water, poured some olive oil in it with that. I watched it boil and put the noodles in and let those cook, putting the lid on it. I opened up the can of soup of mushroom in with the meat, letting that simmer on low. I drained the noodles, rinsing them with cold water, letting them cool for a few moments while tossing them with olive oil, mixing the two and letting it sit with a lid on to keep the heat in.

Now, salad and drinks. I washed the cutting board I used to cut the onions and garlic on, drying it with a clean rag, spraying down the counter as well, cleaning it with soap and water. I placed the cutting board on the newly-cleaned counter, fetching a new knife and the lettuce, carrots, and cucumbers. I cut each up systematically, placing them in bowls, covering them with each person's personal favorite dressing, wrapping them in plastic wrap, and shaking them to mix well. I put them in the fridge to keep them cold and started to wipe down the table, cleaning it off, propping my foot up on one of the chairs. I put some cloth down, taking off the dirty tablecloth. I set the table and went to find some white candles and a lighter. I found them in one of the old boxes, putting them in the candelabra, cutting the wick down a little. I tried lighting up the lighter, but it seemed to be out of fluid. Oh well, I thought, I think we have matches somewhere, I just don't know where. I went on another search for them, finding them in one of the cabinets.

I put down some glasses, putting a whiskey glass in front of my fathers, making sure we had ice ready. Unfortunately, we did not, so I grabbed a container that I could portion off, cutting some plastic and securing it to the walls of the container. I poured some hot water into it, putting it into the freezer quickly, shutting the door. I pulled off the ice pack, hissing as I put my foot flat. I checked back in on the ice about a hour later, putting a bottle of whiskey and a pitcher or fresh water with ice cubes on it, just as the door opens.

He drunkenly stumbled into the dining room, sitting down. I rushed to put the ice into the glass, filling the glass slightly, calling my brother into the room, placing the salads in front of them, having already uncovered them. I was plating some of the dinner before I heard the inevitable question.

"What happened to your foot?" He asked, his voice was slurred and a bit hard to understand, but I understood what he meant. Besides being a drunk, and a bit abusive, as some of you would call it, he was a good father. I knew, deep down, he cared.

"I kicked the heater, it wasn't working." I responded, putting the plate down in front of him, taking the bowl and rinsing it out. I started to eat as well..

Anyway, we finished eating and I put away dinner and that's about it for now, about the dinner part.

Then, the argument started. More about that in the next entry.