The tape winds down.

My Dad has been sitting on the couch speaking test patterns into a microphone for the better half of an hour now. Up until a few minutes ago, I've been playing Civilization Revolution but now as I put the laundry in and think about what to do for dinner, I can't help but think that Dad's incessant "Test 1, 2, 3" sounds like the winding down of an old ancient robotic tape that's just about to run out of juice.

Over and over again, he's going "Test one. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Tweleve. Thirtee-"

He just stopped at thirteen.

And now he's started again.

"Test."

Before this, it was "Peter Piper picked a…" whatever it is the rest of that thing goes.

I can't quite tell whether he's got a logical reason for testing his new sound box and audio program this obsessively or if he's just doing it to irritate me.

He's probably not doing it to irritate me, but you try listening to the background noise of a baritone father slowly saying "test 1-2-3" over & over again and tell me it's not irritating.

"Test 1-2-3."

There he is. Doing it again.

*sigh*

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