Spartaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

June 17, 2008 at 9:21 am 8 comments

Dear Jesus.  This poor house.  My poor flattie.  Aside from being frikken Martha Stewart incarnate, I don’t actually know how she copes with me.  My room is constantly cluttered with whatever daily props I’ve used, my washing overflows, my tea hardly ever gets finished and I leave a trail of destruction behind me wherever I go.  My driving skills leave a lot to be desired – I accidentally almost always choose the one road which is a one way, the breaks squeak their way from A to B, I have a collection of horrible hats, one of them being dubbed as the ‘tea cozy’ and I love playing my music loudly.

 

The problem comes in where although having Martha Stuart occupy the living residence with me can be fantastic for me on most occasions, I’m sure she might be also battling with it.  I can tell, I’m psychic like that.  Plus, the ‘deargodwillyoujustputitdownandletmeDOIT’ sentences give her away just a tad.

 

We fight over cooking rights (both of us wanting to do it), we argue about cutting tomatoes the wrong way (her, not me), we disagree on who should wash my laundry (she wants to do it along with hers and leave me to read my FHM, which obviously makes me feel completely useless and so I’m compelled to say no to her kind offer, which irritates the life out of me when usually I should just shut myself the fuck up and allow her to do whatever household chore makes her happy (because really, I’m not exaggerating here – being Martha Stuart really does put a smile on her dial) but the fact is, because she is so damned domestically efficient, I feel completely useless.  Especially when I decide to prep the fillings for toasties and she gives me a look akin to a carnivore about to bludgeon his latest dinner morsel to death with a cleaver and a sharp knife.

 

I feel undomesticated, when the truth is I actually am – I’ve run my own household before and lived to tell the tale.  We are just fighting over who should be allowed to do all things domestic first.  It’s a battle of wills.  She likes her way, I like mine.  We’re both anal assholes.  BUT.

 

I shall not curb my fear, nor run away from the fight.  This is SPARTA all over.

I *will* get my own victory.   

I don my helmet and sword and heighten my posture.

I lean forward and prepare myself for the domestic battle that is sure to be imminent.  

 

Can you tell its Bitch Week?  Oh yes.  Tampons abound, hormones are everywhere and there are two grown women in this house (and another one still getting there), fighting for power and control of domestic duty, with only one of us winning. 

 

Step. away. from. the. period.

 

——————-

*Are we not so lucky, to have this as our biggest issue?  Surely we should be hating each other by now?  Surely there should be more serious personal issues?  Is she just a really, really, good undercover actor?  I know how hard it is being me with all my bullshit, surely its harder for her living with it?  Damn I am thankful.  Everyday.

 

Please do not think for one minute that this is a serious issue.  Of all the things that can go wrong in a living environment, this is one of the most minor problems that could have occurred.  I’m very lucky.  Not only have I moved in with someone who I love dearly and to death, she comes with another human being that I might even possibly love more.  There is stress, but more laughter and kinship than I could have ever hoped for.  Things are so easy for us, it all just came naturally.  I sometimes pinch myself and think – it’s only been a month, how have we come so far, so quickly? I’ve found a family here that I never expected to.  I didn’t think I would ever feel so ‘home’ or comfortable around another person like I do.

 

But still, step away from the period. There are two of us in this place, it gets dangerously close to being dangerous. Serious.

 

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Entry filed under: Uncategorized.

GPS are not being my forte, yo Summertiiiiiiime, and the living is easyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

8 Comments Add your own

  • 1. cathjenkin  |  June 17, 2008 at 9:41 am

    WAHAHAHAH fuck off i love you fuckbitch. LET ME GRATE MY OWN CHEESE!!!

    X

    Reply
  • 2. cathjenkin  |  June 17, 2008 at 9:42 am

    and hey, i might be martha stewart, but at least my applicators do not roll away from me!!!

    WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH

    XXXX.

    fucking love you chickabee. for all that is the Shath. X

    Reply
  • 3. Tamara  |  June 17, 2008 at 11:22 am

    LOL at you both. And well done – I don’t think I could deal with PMS squared!

    Reply
  • 4. Amy  |  June 17, 2008 at 11:26 am

    You osund kind of like my sister and I…. she is above and beyond in her ideas of how tidy the house needs to be, and sometimes i do feel lazy when she;s on a cleaning spree and i’m snuggled under a blanket watching a movie….to each his own i suppose 🙂 !

    Reply
  • 5. shebee  |  June 17, 2008 at 11:42 am

    C@t – noted. Next time I’ll sit there with my legs propped up and make you do all the work. (Like usual). :/

    Tam – hee hee, PMSsquared. I think I should make us a sign for the fridge.

    Amy – LOL, you and your blister sound just like us! Except I’m usually in your position. Replace the tv with my laptop. 😉

    Reply
  • 6. cathjenkin  |  June 17, 2008 at 12:58 pm

    WAHAHHAHAHAH. like usual what crap. you do just fine mrs timberlake. I wouldnt have you anywhere else, thank you. except maybe the kitchen counter?

    WAHAHAHAHA JOOOKING.

    Reply
  • 7. angel  |  June 17, 2008 at 4:16 pm

    man i think the two of you are fargin awesome together and apart!

    just seeing how you are with each other in the brief time we were in casa de sh@th on saturday night makes me all warm and fuzzy inside for you both!

    Reply
  • 8. cathjenkin  |  June 18, 2008 at 6:25 am

    bless your heart angel. X

    Reply

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