I knew it was coming, even expected it to happen sooner than it did, but here it is… I’m getting all pissy about being home ~ most days by myself ~ and being expected to be all Suzy Homemaker.
Sure, other than major decluttering projects like reorganizing the pantry, or sorting through the cabinets for overstocked cans of green beans, and pulling old, frayed towels out of the hall closet, I don’t have much to do around here.
But, damn would it kill people to pick up their folded clothes off the couch? Do I have to deliver the freshly laundered stacks too?
Doesn’t anyone else know how to shovel cat poop out of a litter box, or open a door to let out two pee deprived dogs?
Seriously, if I have to pick another dinner menu I. will. scream. I don’t know what you people want to eat cuz you won’t tell me, even when I ask! I could use a little help here! Telling me ‘I don’t care, anything…’ is not helping! The threat of Brussels sprouts and liver is not idle. I need to just fix what I want to eat, if they’re hungry enough they won’t starve.
Granted Hubs has been good about occasionally clearing the dirties away after dinner, and I don’t even have to ask. Gawd, I hate loading the dishwasher with food-caked plates. And, he will bring in baskets of clothes for me to fold ~ gee thanks, hon.
Before you label me a whiner, it’s not that I’m complaining about the work. It has to be done. It’s the expectation that it’s all mine to do. That just because I’m here, these tasks, these same jobs that needed doing when I was working outside the home, are now my sole responsibility when they were, more or less, shared before.
I would like the chance to do something I find enjoyable without having to also endure stink eyes and all that huffing because the dishes are still in the sink or a load of clothes is cooling off in the dryer. If you don’t have clean underwear that’s your problem for not taking it to the laundry room. Start a load yourself!
Oh yeah, get up and get your own damn glass of water, your legs ain’t broke!