Tag Archives: Messy

O Hello, Resentment

Standard
Guys, I am starting to have a major issue. I am starting to find that every time I realize something needs cleaned, or I go to clean something, I feel resentful toward Fiancé.

Lately I will just not do the dishes or will eventually ask him to do them, of which he will get around to doing. But, that isn’t as much of an issue anymore. It is other things that I finding myself getting really upset about.

Scrubbing the bathtub.
Dusting.
Sweeping.
Cleaning the toilet.
Washing the bedding.
Cleaning the sinks.
Washing the counters.
Cleaning the floors.
Him not painting the molding against the bookshelf (meaning I still haven’t unpacked numerous boxes because they all go on the bookshelf. It has been 4 months since I have been here).
Not helping me take empty boxes down to our basement space.

And what happens if we ever get in a fight? I bring this all up. It has even gotten to the point where he knows I will bring it up and/or that I am always upset/nagging him about it. I have even tried to talk to him about the fact that he doesn’t help around the house, but he always gets really defensive. Or, in the case of painting the molding, he always says he will do it tonight or next weekend, but never does. I have even asked, numerous times, for him to just tell me what I have to do (because it needs sealed first) and I will do it myself. Does he? No.

Why can’t he just clean? Why doesn’t he just help me out, and then I would be a lot nicer to him? Why do I even have to ask him?

It is getting to the point where I am about to go on strike. Cook your own food. Live in filth. And no sexy times of any nature until he does more than just empty and load the dishwasher.

Except I am fearful of doing “Live in filth” because I know it won’t bother him. Please help me. Any advice at all and I will be forever be indebted to you.

Advertisements

How I Will Become a Millionaire

Standard
When I first moved in with Fiancé I found that he likes to leave things just sitting where they are when he is done with them. He also empties the contents of his pockets when he first walks in. Sometimes he will place them on the fireplace mantel, the table right inside of the entryway, or even the floor next to him on the couch. This then causes me to find little presents just sitting around.

One of these items is change. I think you know where I am going with this.

In the beginning I would just yell at him to clean his mess up and pick up the change that was scattered about the living room floor, mantle, entryway, etc. But, eventually I got sick of it. I told him, “If I ever see change sitting out and not put away in your bowl (he has a bowl that he puts his change in) then it is mine.”

I honestly think that he thought I was joking. He should really know better by now.

I knew this plan would only work if I told him how much change I found and deemed it mine, or if I did it in front of him. The first time it happened I told him when he got home from lab.

“I found $1.50 in change today! I put it in my panda bank.”

I think he thought I was joking, again.

So, the next time I waited until he was there. I found about three different dimes on the floor and picked them up while he was sitting in front of me.

“O look, 30 cents! I’m rich!!”

“What?! That’s my money,” he replied.

“Uh, no, it’s not. I told you that if I ever find your change sitting around then it was mine.”

“That’s not fair! It’s MY money.”

“Nope, not anymore. It belongs to my panda bank now. But don’t worry too much, in June it will be /our/ money. I am just keeping it safe for you.”

I then walked into our bedroom and proceeded to drop the change into my awesome panda bank.

image

Sadly, he started to actually learn from the lesson I was trying to teach him, and has been leaving less change out in the open. But who knows, maybe he’ll forget again and I’ll be rich!

(Disclaimer: I only take the cents, not the dollar bills. I’d feel guilty if I took the dollar bills).

I Don’t Understand the Male Brain

Standard
It seems that every time I crawl into bed, post Fiancé, I find myself a gift on either my pillow or right below it. And, of course, the only way that I find this gift is by whacking either my head or shoulder on it. What is it, you might ask?

The remote to the television, duh.

Some might say, “Why on Earth would he put the remote there?” But, this is a question I have been asking myself and my Fiancé since I have moved in. Especially once you see this lovely picture/diagram that I took/made for you. (Click it to enlarge).

You see that star? That is his side of the bed. I have placed the remote in one of his prime locations, on top of my pillows.

Notice the giant, annoying, hot pink rectangles? Look what is inside of those rectangles.

IT IS HIS NIGHTSTAND! Now, can some sane person please explain to me why Fiancé continues to place the remote control on my pillow, or just under it, when I have asked him multiple times to PUT IT ON HIS NIGHTSTAND?

No, seriously, I would love a valid explanation.

1950’s housewife vs. Modern woman

Standard
It’s been a few more days than normal, I know. And for that, I am sorry. Also, a side of caution, I drove 4 hours today so whatever I say may not make sense or be horribly phrased. Again, sorry.

I am currently finding myself in a bind between being a modern woman and a 1950’s housewife. I don’t like it and I’m not sure what to do about it.

I like cooking and it is always a time where I can just be alone and think. I also am a semi-neat freak. I just like things cleaned, because the flyers and junk that you get in the mail is meant for the trash-not the top of the fireplace, the floor, or the entryway table. Old science magazines, homework articles, xbox remotes, and books are also not meant for the living room floor. So to me, it’s easy. I clean the whole place up and then it looks pretty, just like I want.

But then goes the other side of my brain. I shouldn’t have to clean up after him. I am clean, so I clean my own things up after I make a mess. If you ignore my bedroom that is. That has, and always will be a lost cause. Don’t bother trying to cure that problem.

Anyway, I don’t feel like I should have to clean up after him. It’s not my job, I’m not his mother. He is a grown man who should be able to clean up after himself….but he can’t. And then there is the food issue. I shouldn’t HAVE to make food all of the time. Although I do give him credit that he doesn’t expect me to cook for him or have dinner ready when he gets home.

But I like real food. I don’t eat ramen, as I don’t like it, and other than pasta I am pretty sure this is the only thing he knows how to make. Unless you count grilling something, but I don’t because all he does is throw it on the grill/George Foremen. Can someone teach him how to cook, please?

I know I am not the only one that struggles between wanting to take care of the home/their man and being an independent woman and having them do something. It’s nice to have the option and it being socially acceptable for them to do work, but it makes life confusing.

How I Posted Something on Facebook That I Usually Roll My Eyes At

Standard
As I said in my last entry, I went home this past weekend. I ended up getting sick and having a sinus infection. But, sadly, this is something that I am used to. So I hung out at home on Sunday instead of going back to Cleveland that day, but decided to go the next. All of which Fiancé knew about, or so I thought.

Of course the weather was total crap on Monday; it rained all day. My drive was long, boring, and consisted of me being thankful there wasn’t too much traffic. There is just something about rain while drive that makes everything seem even worse.

I arrive at the condo and Fiancé was still at lab. I only have the house key and not the front door key, so the only way I can get inside is through the backdoor. And what room contains the backdoor? The kitchen, of course. So here I am, still not feeling 100% me and exhausted from a rainy drive, and I walk into the condo.

I was wondering if the condo would be a mess, especially my usually 95% spotless kitchen. And it was.

That’s cool.

There was a dirty pot on the stove, along with a dirty cookie sheet. The blender was pulled out and the washable part in the sink. A mixing bowl was sitting out, as well as an empty popcorn bag (I can only assume the bowl was used for the popcorn). An oven mit, a dirty bowl with a spoon in it, a dirty mug, and an empty hot chocolate packet.

Now, might I just add that everything was on the counter except for the blender, which was in the sink. Please tell me why half of those things weren’t even in the sink? Let alone, why weren’t they in the half EMPTY dishwasher?

I walked out to the living room to then find that he had left the trail mix out and a Chipotle bag with his burrito bowl container sitting on top, from the night before. And the typical guy thing, in the bathroom he didn’t put new TP on the roll. I even have an extra one in there.

I was so pissed. I was sick and just drove all the way here to find this hot mess. So when texting him didn’t make me feel better I turned to Facebook.

I hate when people post their relationship issues or problems on Facebook for the world to see. But I was desperate. I needed the world to be on my side and agree with me that I was not crazy. Thankfully my blogging buddy and friend, gwen, made me feel better about this situation.

Of course he says I didn’t tell him I was coming home that day and he planned on cleaning up that night for when I returned. I am just wondering when exactly he thought I was going to return. He also had told me that he knew I would be pissed upon seeing the place.

He thinks I blew the mess out of proportion and I think not. He knows I am sick and on drugs to get rid of it. I would be upset regardless if I was sick, but that is not what I wanted to walk into when I get home.

He cleaned up his mess that he had created while I was gone and I think he might have had a tiny bit of guilt. Because guess what he did after dinner.

He washed the pans and even put the potatoes in the fridge.

Maybe there is hope after all?