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When I Am Old, I Shall Wear Midnight
by Kyamyst

previous entry: I'm Messing Up My Own Future Because I'm Scared

next entry: Oh, She's Happy Now. Typical.

Breathe Slowly. That's It. No Killing Housemates Remember

02/02/2010

My wonderful and caring housemates have once again decided that they can 'forget' the fact that there is a complete mess in the kitchen full of dirty dishes, due to the builders being here and all of us deciding that since the kitchen is already in such a 'pig stye' then there is no reason for it to actually be cleaned. And I have been one of them.

But now that the builders are gone, it would have been thought that we would return to old regime. Of course, that's me thinking too much of my housemates, isn't it?

I can understand why A didn't. She was the one who made the dinner after all, other than the few things I did to help. And she's always exhausted after working all day so there is no chance of it being done before she goes to bed. But her boyfriend R on the other hand, could have helped. He didn't actually do anything in line with the dinner.

Instead, he cleans up the plates of his and A's, and then leaves them on the counter. It's not as if the dishwasher is full, it was cleared of all the clean plates, utensils etc earlier today. So, there's no point in leaving it there. But he does anyway.

He leaves my plate in the living room (where we eat our meals), along with his mess and two cups that they drank out of. So I go into the kitchen and see a counter that is nearly over-spilling due to the fact that's been a few days.

And sigh.

So I do all the cleaning up. I put all the dirty dishes and so forth into the dishwasher that is completely empty, wipe the counter and do a general tidy-up.

It doesn't seem to matter that this is always left to me. That I am the one who cleans up everyone else's messed (don't even get me started on the fact that the two of them are incapable of draining all of their cereal out of the bowls in the morning, or even giving it a quick rinse so that all the food left ends up crusted into the bowl by the time I get home).

It doesn't matter, because they don't care.

It doesn't matter how many times I mention it to them. It doesn't matter that the worse offender is R.

No, because I'm the one making too much of a deal out of all of this.

I just can't bloody well wait until I move out of here.

Kya

previous entry: I'm Messing Up My Own Future Because I'm Scared

next entry: Oh, She's Happy Now. Typical.

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