Monday, November 13, 2006

We All Eat, We All Drink


But we don't all clean.

I realize I'm coming to this late. I'm not dealing with anything millions of women haven't been dealing with for years. But it is enraging when three people live in a house, they all make messes, they all work, and only one cleans.

I'm not talking one adult and two children. This is three grown people and, if you assign the responsibility for making the messes, the one doing the cleaning is the one making the least of them (probably because they actually realize the fucking housekeeping fairies aren't going to be showing up to handle that for her).

And then the husband who hasn't gotten around to accomplishing a household chore in, oh...years...has the gall to tell me I shouldn't complain because we all eat, we all drink, we all wear clothes. This as I'm looking at the kitty litter box where the adult son dumped out the loose litter, left the mass of clumped, urine soaked litter, and didn't put any clean litter in.

And they aren't my cats! I don't even like cats. They each have a cat and I feed them, clean their litter, go get their medicines, buy their food, wash their dinner bowls, and get attitude if I don't fill their waterer up quickly enough to suit Brick....

...break in writing caused by having to go clean up the latest mess made when Brick's cat pulled over another untended glass of water that Brick left out...guess one dead laptop wasn't enough of a bodycount.....

This was all acceptable when I didn't work. Dealing with all this bullshit was my job. I had hours alone to do the routine maintenence that a household requires. I'm working part time and going to school full time and I don't have the time anymore. I'm adjusting all over the place and no one else has adjusted at all.

And Brick is mad at me. How dare I be in a bad mood! How dare I not want to have sex when he suddenly decided he wanted sex for the first time in months!

I am torn between overwhelming rage and the pull of overwhelming depression. The rage won't fix anything. I have begged Zack for the last six weekends to do better and I'm still getting litterboxes ull of clumped urine.

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