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dragonlady7I shouldn't do housework. I get hostile.
But then, if I don't do housework, I get depressed.
So...
I am simultaneously guilty and still mad at the Boy, having had one of those arguments you can't win.
Person A: Ugh! I can't believe you let these cookie sheets sit on the counter until they rusted! You've done dishes four times in the month since we used them!
B: How was I supposed to know they were dirty?
A: Uh, they were sitting next to the sink? With food crusted on them?
B: You were there and used them too!
A: Have I been in the kitchen in the last month?
B: And there's my point! You never do dishes!
A: Uh, I have a job.
B: I worked forty hours a week and still did housework! You work like twenty hours a week and it's inconceivable?
A: I work thirty hours a week , thanks, and wash dishes as part of my living. And I still manage to do all the laundry, and all the cleaning that gets done in this house!!
B: *sullen silence*
A: *Continues to rant, realizes it is futile and is only in fact making things worse.*
A: *does dishes, cleans kitchen, makes casserole, fumes about each and every one of B's failings until A can no longer see straight*
A: *goes, sits down, reads novel, entirely forgets argument*
B: *is sullen for hours, goes to bed*
So you see why I shouldn't be left alone in a kitchen unless my disposition is sunny to begin with. Seriously, don't make me worry about money for a month straight and give me housework to do. It's just not... Good.
But, I have made a casserole of Indian food for dinner (go Patak's in a jar!!) and soon Corey (with a new cellphone! Holy crap!) will arrive with the rotkeedvd (it's all one word) and we'll feed Dave and send him back to bed.
So all is... I suppose I should say, 'well', and leave it at that. I will not rant, I will not rave, and i will not air my laundry on the internet more than is absolutely necessary.
And to Dave's cousin, who commented, "How can you put your whole life online like that?" I will answer:
It's way more addicting to write it than it is to read it. I can't think about stuff unless I write about it. And I am too dumb to use lj's in-built privacy features. So here it is. If you read it you probably deserve what you get. I'm not giving away state secrets here: just the fact that I'm a freaking psycho, and if you didn't already know that, you didn't know me and shouldn't care.
But then, if I don't do housework, I get depressed.
So...
I am simultaneously guilty and still mad at the Boy, having had one of those arguments you can't win.
Person A: Ugh! I can't believe you let these cookie sheets sit on the counter until they rusted! You've done dishes four times in the month since we used them!
B: How was I supposed to know they were dirty?
A: Uh, they were sitting next to the sink? With food crusted on them?
B: You were there and used them too!
A: Have I been in the kitchen in the last month?
B: And there's my point! You never do dishes!
A: Uh, I have a job.
B: I worked forty hours a week and still did housework! You work like twenty hours a week and it's inconceivable?
A: I work thirty hours a week , thanks, and wash dishes as part of my living. And I still manage to do all the laundry, and all the cleaning that gets done in this house!!
B: *sullen silence*
A: *Continues to rant, realizes it is futile and is only in fact making things worse.*
A: *does dishes, cleans kitchen, makes casserole, fumes about each and every one of B's failings until A can no longer see straight*
A: *goes, sits down, reads novel, entirely forgets argument*
B: *is sullen for hours, goes to bed*
So you see why I shouldn't be left alone in a kitchen unless my disposition is sunny to begin with. Seriously, don't make me worry about money for a month straight and give me housework to do. It's just not... Good.
But, I have made a casserole of Indian food for dinner (go Patak's in a jar!!) and soon Corey (with a new cellphone! Holy crap!) will arrive with the rotkeedvd (it's all one word) and we'll feed Dave and send him back to bed.
So all is... I suppose I should say, 'well', and leave it at that. I will not rant, I will not rave, and i will not air my laundry on the internet more than is absolutely necessary.
And to Dave's cousin, who commented, "How can you put your whole life online like that?" I will answer:
It's way more addicting to write it than it is to read it. I can't think about stuff unless I write about it. And I am too dumb to use lj's in-built privacy features. So here it is. If you read it you probably deserve what you get. I'm not giving away state secrets here: just the fact that I'm a freaking psycho, and if you didn't already know that, you didn't know me and shouldn't care.
