Me: oh really? what do we call me then? Your secretary? A translator? A cleaner?
DF: There's no need to be rude. Did you sort out my phone/internet/pension/car yet?
GAAAAAAAAA!
Hours and hours I spend up here (600miles away from my own home) sorting out whatever paperwork has appeared since the last time, cleaning and decluttering, spending most of my A/L and £££ to travel several times a year. And every time we have a conversation like the above, I just find myself wondering why the hell I bother.
This visit is resulting in me needing to get his personal pension provider and HMRC to talk to me on his behalf but he won't fix his POA to allow me to do it simply (it named my late DM first, and I can't activate it without his permission. Scotland) so we need to go through whatever individual hoops are required starting with phone calls (he's really deaf, so that's never easy) and I just want a fucking holiday with my children.