My father earlier upon seeing what I've packed: "This is a lot again, isn't it?"
My father after we've put the bags and boxes in the car: "Are you sure that's everything? There's a lot of space."
Don't you just love how my ability to do what he asked is not a good thing? It couldn't possibly be that I was actually able to pack less (or more efficiently.) No, it had to be a mistake. (Ok, so I'm sure that once I get there I'll realise I've forgotten something but I'm also pretty sure I haven't left anything that big.)
Or how about earlier:
Dad: Bring your stuff downstairs so we can take it out to the car.
Me: Most of it is by my door, but I'll need help getting it downstairs.
Me: Because it's heavy.
Dad: And you're just a weak little girl? You're going to have to learn to do this by yourself sometime.
Huh? How exactly do you "learn" to be stronger? Did he expect me to take a crash course at the gym? Bulk up in 20 minutes! Or actually more likely he thought I was exaggerating and using it as an excuse. Which of course makes it all the better when, a few minutes later, he's dragging the green box down the stairs because he can't lift it and commenting on how heavy it is.
I'm also quite upset by the implication that in the future I'll be alone and won't have any friends to help me move.
On a lighter note...Fruit Porn!