My brain is suffering from a major case of scatter smothered and covered (mmmm....Waffle House) today.
I keep staring outside hoping it will rain some more. Then I think about how bad it would suck to have to go to Walmart and have a cart full of groceries to get in and out of the car in pouring rain.
Man, I need groceries. My pantry and fridge are lookin' a little bare these days. Last night Jerm was in the kitchen makin' all kinds of clinkin' noises and shit. I totally thought he was cleaning the kitchen for me. Uh, no. He was all pissed off cleaning rotten shit outta the fridge (sour cream and blood oranges). Dammit! I TOTALLY thought he was doin' some dishes....he coulda totally gotten some if he did. His loss.
I don't think men realize that helping around the house is like the most romantic gesture you can make. Fuck flowers, the hell with a candle lit dinner.....clean the damn house yo.
I ain't kiddin' either. I loathe cleaning house, but I still freakin' do it....mostly. For instance....the cat pukes.....EVERYONE in the dang house walks over it (for days!...I did an experiment once) and says "eww...the cat puked" or in Jerm's case "dammit I wish the cats would hurry up and die". Yeah, ok. Didn't anyone think to pick up the fuckin' puke?!?!? Dammit!
I think I should start gettin' little turds outta the cat box and placing them on everyone's pillows. Some good that'd do though. The boy probably wouldn't even notice it, the girl would clean it up since it was actually on HER bed, but she'd learn no lesson and Jerm would just say "dammit I wish the cats would hurry up and die" and fling the shit on the floor for me to pick up later. I'm not kidding. One of the cat's likes to shit on our bed from time to time anyhow, so....whatever.
I keep staring outside hoping it will rain some more. Then I think about how bad it would suck to have to go to Walmart and have a cart full of groceries to get in and out of the car in pouring rain.
Man, I need groceries. My pantry and fridge are lookin' a little bare these days. Last night Jerm was in the kitchen makin' all kinds of clinkin' noises and shit. I totally thought he was cleaning the kitchen for me. Uh, no. He was all pissed off cleaning rotten shit outta the fridge (sour cream and blood oranges). Dammit! I TOTALLY thought he was doin' some dishes....he coulda totally gotten some if he did. His loss.
I don't think men realize that helping around the house is like the most romantic gesture you can make. Fuck flowers, the hell with a candle lit dinner.....clean the damn house yo.
I ain't kiddin' either. I loathe cleaning house, but I still freakin' do it....mostly. For instance....the cat pukes.....EVERYONE in the dang house walks over it (for days!...I did an experiment once) and says "eww...the cat puked" or in Jerm's case "dammit I wish the cats would hurry up and die". Yeah, ok. Didn't anyone think to pick up the fuckin' puke?!?!? Dammit!I think I should start gettin' little turds outta the cat box and placing them on everyone's pillows. Some good that'd do though. The boy probably wouldn't even notice it, the girl would clean it up since it was actually on HER bed, but she'd learn no lesson and Jerm would just say "dammit I wish the cats would hurry up and die" and fling the shit on the floor for me to pick up later. I'm not kidding. One of the cat's likes to shit on our bed from time to time anyhow, so....whatever.
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I'm so lucky that my dog has gotten over the peeing on the floor thing, because my husband hates to clean it up to. For him, cleaning it up means soaking the pee up with a towel, and thats it. Gross. Luckily he does the yard work and helps me with the inside too.