I need to vent.
I have an extremely big assignment to do and have ready to turn in by tomorrow and I haven’t even begun to do it. Why? Yesterday I was sick. I’m still sick today, but today I was feeling better than yesterday, so it was assumed that I had nothing better to do than be housewife and do a week’s worth of chores in the five hours that have passed since I woke up.
Shall I list what I had to do?
(after this is some serious venting, so if you’re offended by that, scroll on down to the widget or click off my blog. It’s rated PG, but there’s no intended profanity)
First, Dennis left me a little hint that the sheets needed changed on the bed when I made it this afternoon. Not by telling me, but by turning off the desktop, hiding my pharmacy text book and leaving a stack of clean sheets on the desk. He said he was sick of sleeping on those “nasty” sheets. Ok. Oh, and the remote was down behind the bed, could I get it for him before football? Fine. I made the bed. I changed the sheets. I got the remote out from behind the bed, and found a sheet of my stickers from Chloe’s birthday party down behind there. Anyone want some slightly used Stick-O Rounds?
I got my book back. I was reading the intro to the chapter when Dennis came back and asked where the clean dishes were. There were no clean bowls in the cupboard. Could I wash some before I started my assignment? I smiled and said the dishes in the dishwasher were clean–all he had to do was open the door and get a clean bowl. Rather than do that, he asked me why they weren’t put away and left the room. Every three minutes he called out that he was starving. Alright. I put the dishes away. I re-loaded the dishwasher and turned it on. I fixed him a snack. He’s parked at the desk top, the TV is off, my downloads are on hold, and he’s watching YouTube news. WTF? I asked if there was anything else I could do. Yeah–he needs clean clothes, oh, and the garbage needs taken out, and could I re-stock the bathroom? We’re low on toilet paper and there are no clean towels hanging up by the tub. What ever is he going to dry off on or wipe his butt with?
I almost suggested he bring the dog into the bathroom with him, but that’s just gross.
I re-stocked the bathroom, washed a load of Dennis’ pants, dried them, put the dishes away, and I was going back to my book when I was informed we had no tissues in the bedroom, could I run to the store and buy a box?
*screams bloody murder!!!!!!!
I said there were tissues in the bedroom closet, right on the shelf, I was taking a bath and putting my clothes out for tomorrow. While running the bath water, I heard a loud clang followed by a thud and Dennis cussing loudly. Naked, I rushed out of the bathroom. He’d bumped the door off the track. But I shouldn’t worry, he’d take care of it. I sighed, and put the door back on the track, a puff of dust riling up in my face when I did–I could feel the asbestos crawling down my throat and into my lungs (we have an asbestos warning sticker on our closet door put there by the health department). I took out the box of tissues, opened it, and even popped up the first one, and set it on the desk. Dennis gave me a sad look.
“What?” I asked.
“Those were from New York, remember, we bought them at Christmas time?” he replied.
“So?! We’ll keep the box! I am not going to the store!” I replied, turned and took my bath.
My homework lays undone on the kitchen table. Professor Sal will have a good reason to scream at me tomorrow when I don’t turn it in on time. Pray for me. I’ve already had my night meds and now I’m going to attempt to do pharmacy/chemistry work. Be thankful it’s all just on paper and I’m not attempting to do this with real chemicals!