Dad, Dad, Dad

My father is driving me crazy, yet again. He's stressing about the hurricane. He wants to come to my house. I agreed that he might need to evacuate, but reminded him that I have no downstairs beds, and no handicapped-accessible bathrooms, and suggested the hotel around the corner instead. But he doesn't really want to stay in a hotel. He wants to stay here, despite the clear impossibility of it (I may have him move in at some point, but I'll have to rip out a wall first). He's calling me twice a day and whining pitifully about how a hotel just won't be good enough.

Meanwhile, his third new television in a few months is "malfunctioning." Despite the clear evidence that he keeps pushing buttons on the remote and screwing the settings up, he blames the TV, every last time. He had to get his handyman over today because he was seeing a blue screen, and assures me that his handyman told him the TV is a lemon and that he MUST buy a new one. No amount of argument or persuasion on my part can convince him that he's doing something to mess up the settings-- he is certain the culprit is the TV. Apparently they just don't make TVs like they used to.

Sigh. This is starting to get extremely wearing. I really don't know what to do with him. He seems too coherent and mentally together to go into a nursing home, and he doesn't want to move in here (except when a hurricane is looming), but he can't keep on buying TVs every two weeks, either. And I can't stop him-- last time I took his TV to Best Buy and got it fixed, and he simply went out with someone else behind my back and bought a new one anyway. Ridiculous, and aggravating.