really.bad.dogs. dogs who should be beaten and starved. (aww, poor doggies)
what is it with guys and their inability to clean up after themselves?! i don't think i'll ever understand what is so fucking difficult about this concept. someone tell me please. i'm convinced boyfriend is slowly trying to drive me to the break of insanity because he wants my son (who is far cleaner than he is) all to himself! it's all part of an evil plan. an evil, i will break her spirit by leaving bread crumbs on the counter each morning and still not cleaning them up by the time she gets home at night, plan! *insert evil laugh here*
i realize i'm not the first to bitch about this, and most definitely won't be the last. you cook dinner and splatter hot sauce all over the stovetop; wipe it off. don't leave it until it's so fucking caked and hardened on the top of the stove that it is now a completely different color then it ever was and will take a freaking crowbar to remove. can't you just picture me in the kitchen with a crowbar, chipping away at the hot sauce? good lord.
part of the problem, however, is that i'm completely pyschotic. mess and clutter doesn't bother boyfriend- so he doesn't even notice things like that. he mopped the floor the other day (and the mop and glo is still sitting on the counter top to prove it) and it's already filthy. but it doesn't bother him. at all. he could care less. why doesn't he care?! WHYYYYY? i mean, i care and i didn't even mop the fucking thing!! i get the concept that if something doesn't bother you, then it doesn't draw your attention and it's a lot easier to ignore. but when something does bother you- you notice every freaking minute detail about it. see, i am crazy. i walk in the door at night and my eyes dart around and find all the crap that is "wrong" in the house. sweatshirts on the living room floor that have been there for 3 days. empty beer bottles strategically placed throughout the living room. food wrappers crumpled on the table, the desk, the bar (anywhere but the trashcan). crumbs on the counter that have been there since the morning, only because i refused to clean them up. i think it's because i walk in the house and see these things, and immediately assume that i'm supposed to "fix" them. or immediately jump to the conclusion that i'm "expected" to fix them. and all of a sudden i feel overwhelmed after working all day, that now i have more work to do at home. i just want to relax, but i can't because oh.my.god. there is a crumb on the counter. and seriously, i will notice 1 crumb. i'm starting to think i'm difficult to live with.
funny thing is- i don't mind the crap he leaves on his side of the bedroom. i really don't. probably because i just avoid his side of the bedroom. i don't even look over there anymore. i just walk over to my perfectly organized, pretty side. and his evil, cluttered, messy, dark side of the room doesn't exist to me. the bathroom is a whole other story, but let's not even go there. at least not today.
bottom line is- if you make a fucking mess, clean it up. i mean, that's what i do. i realize this is a novel concept and i should be rewarded (again) for being so brilliant. maybe if we treated guys like dogs, they'd do things better? you know, gave them a scooby snack after every good deed. oooh, you picked up your stinky socks off the floor? good boy! here's a treat! *pats head*