This is like that gray area between neglecting your kid and actually being there for them. Make up a shit ton of these and BOOM never again will your parasites children take you away from such important tasks as fantasy football; finally organizing your burned DVD collection of girls eating ice-cream, the ages of which are of questionable legality; and most importantly hiding out in your office with a thousand mile stare locked on a picture of yourself as a child, poor bastard didn't even see it coming. Still, I commend you on your so-so paternal aspirations.
I've got a buddy who's going to crash tonight. I figure he'll get the couch, where I usually sleep, and I get a foam pad on the floor. I was thinking about buying a cot to sleep comfortably on, but I think I'm just going to buy alcohol instead.