Phoned my father this afternoon. As one does. Unless you are one of my sisters in which case you won’t. In-joke. Snarky. Forget it.
My father is a noisy person. I keep the receiver well away from my ear. This afternoon it got so bad my mother intervened to tell him he could be heard half way down the road. He did close the window.
Anyway, him never one to be held on a leash mashing you into a pulp, two more pronouncements were made on me (notwithstanding that – as usual and by his own confession – he enjoyed our conversation): In his opinion I am supremely arrogant, on top of which, apparently, I divert any subject from the theme back to the person.
Yes. So? Whatever.
I am good at letting people run into open doors. So I conceded that I am indeed arrogant. With good reason. Arrogance is the intellectual equivalent of sartorial elegance. Keep it understated.
As to my, apparently, turning the abstract to the more personal: Try it sometime. Makes for so much more intimacy. And friendship.