Dumb-de-dumb.
Update time, I reckon.
I am quite sick of spending every day I have off work cleaning the house. I have a high tolerance for mess, and am not at all what one might venture to call a "neat freak". However, I cannot tolerate the utter filth into which this place decsends every three or four days. I feel a bit like Sisyphus, cleaning it all up only to look around upon waking the next day, and discover it's worse than ever, once again. This is of course the plight of every housewife and cohabitating woman I've had occasion to meet or know. I feel it's a tad bit sexist, and stereotypical of course, to say this, but it rings all too true in my experience.
I'm sure there are males out there who don't leave collossal fucking messes all over the house for their significant others to deal with. I know there are.Unfortunately I do not live with one. And the kicker is he could care less, of course. He could live with every dish dirty and collecting living specimens, garbage and dogshit covering the floor, clothes strewn everywhere and be content. And gods forbid he do a little tidying simply to please me. Heavens no. That's asking far too much, and he's ever so busy. I suppose his free time- and mind you, he does not work- his parents give him all the money he needs and pay all his bills, so he doesn't have to work- is worth much more than mine.
And you might remember my writing that we've turned off the heat in our house- he decided it was too expensive; and not without reason, for our bill this month was $300 less. I'm quite cold natured, for a number of reasons, the simplest of which being I just am. So I've been miserable, bundled up as best I can, and never ever warm enough. Today I honestly snapped, though, when I was in the shower for 3 minutes and the water started getting cold. I'm sure if I chopped off all my hair I could take a three minute shower, and gods I did consider it this morning. But I need at least ten. That's not too long. I've known people who took 30 minute showers. After raising holy hell I got him to turn the water heater up. I honestly thought I would leave right then and there. I was so angry, I can't even express it.
And I've stayed angry- things that normally don't bother me- or didn't used to at least (see above rant) set me into the wildest rages imaginable. I've taken to kicking, throwing, punching things. Screaming for no reason. Breaking down into rearless sobs, gasping for air- I suppose they're panic attacks, but I really wouldn't know. I feel like I'm just one neatly wrapped up ball of hate under an ever-thinning veil of public pleasantries and private silence.
I hate this town. I hate all the strip malls and driving and chain resturaunts and bars that close at 2 and the utter flatness and desolation of the countryside. I hate this house. I hate that it's not mine and never will be, I hate that it's so fucking cold and so miserably dirty all the fucking time. I hate my boyfriend. I hate his self-centeredness and his daring me to leave if I hate it here so much. I hate that I feel so beholden to him and his family and I hate that he feels he can throw money at me and make me happy. I hate that all he wants to do with his free time is smoke pot and watch t.v. or sleep. I hate that we can't go out and have fun doing things together like couples are supposed to. I fucking hate it. I hate that working at Starbucks is the best job I can get here. I hate that I feel so alone. I hate that I stay here when I hate everything about my life right now.
That's how I've been. How are you?
Update time, I reckon.
I am quite sick of spending every day I have off work cleaning the house. I have a high tolerance for mess, and am not at all what one might venture to call a "neat freak". However, I cannot tolerate the utter filth into which this place decsends every three or four days. I feel a bit like Sisyphus, cleaning it all up only to look around upon waking the next day, and discover it's worse than ever, once again. This is of course the plight of every housewife and cohabitating woman I've had occasion to meet or know. I feel it's a tad bit sexist, and stereotypical of course, to say this, but it rings all too true in my experience.
I'm sure there are males out there who don't leave collossal fucking messes all over the house for their significant others to deal with. I know there are.Unfortunately I do not live with one. And the kicker is he could care less, of course. He could live with every dish dirty and collecting living specimens, garbage and dogshit covering the floor, clothes strewn everywhere and be content. And gods forbid he do a little tidying simply to please me. Heavens no. That's asking far too much, and he's ever so busy. I suppose his free time- and mind you, he does not work- his parents give him all the money he needs and pay all his bills, so he doesn't have to work- is worth much more than mine.
And you might remember my writing that we've turned off the heat in our house- he decided it was too expensive; and not without reason, for our bill this month was $300 less. I'm quite cold natured, for a number of reasons, the simplest of which being I just am. So I've been miserable, bundled up as best I can, and never ever warm enough. Today I honestly snapped, though, when I was in the shower for 3 minutes and the water started getting cold. I'm sure if I chopped off all my hair I could take a three minute shower, and gods I did consider it this morning. But I need at least ten. That's not too long. I've known people who took 30 minute showers. After raising holy hell I got him to turn the water heater up. I honestly thought I would leave right then and there. I was so angry, I can't even express it.
And I've stayed angry- things that normally don't bother me- or didn't used to at least (see above rant) set me into the wildest rages imaginable. I've taken to kicking, throwing, punching things. Screaming for no reason. Breaking down into rearless sobs, gasping for air- I suppose they're panic attacks, but I really wouldn't know. I feel like I'm just one neatly wrapped up ball of hate under an ever-thinning veil of public pleasantries and private silence.
I hate this town. I hate all the strip malls and driving and chain resturaunts and bars that close at 2 and the utter flatness and desolation of the countryside. I hate this house. I hate that it's not mine and never will be, I hate that it's so fucking cold and so miserably dirty all the fucking time. I hate my boyfriend. I hate his self-centeredness and his daring me to leave if I hate it here so much. I hate that I feel so beholden to him and his family and I hate that he feels he can throw money at me and make me happy. I hate that all he wants to do with his free time is smoke pot and watch t.v. or sleep. I hate that we can't go out and have fun doing things together like couples are supposed to. I fucking hate it. I hate that working at Starbucks is the best job I can get here. I hate that I feel so alone. I hate that I stay here when I hate everything about my life right now.
That's how I've been. How are you?
VIEW 18 of 18 COMMENTS
but i thought of your picture....