Life is Maintenance
I woke up to a post on Glassy's SNAP: I can't sleep...
I read this after I woke up for work and stumbled into the kitchen. An orange rectangle illuminating Glassy's face tonight. His side of the kitchen sink has acquired a few more dishes. The cookies he burned earlier are still on the stove, stuck to the pan. The coffee gets made quickly, and I retreat back to my room and shut the door loudly enough to signal I'm grouchy.
I sit at my desk and wait for the coffee to finish brewing. When I come out to retrieve it, Glassy has gone to bed. I'm like his alarm clock. When I get up, he disappears. I'm fine with this. I don't really want to talk to humans at this time of night anyway.
I drank my coffee hot. Pissed. I wanted to comment directly on his page, but instead opted for a note with minimal cuss words that started out like this...
While you couldn't sleep last night, you could've take 30 minutes to
- Wash your dishes (those are all yours)
- Feed your dog
- Take out that bag of trash
- Empty the bathroom trash too.
Chores suck. And life does too. But we've got shit to do. You are old enough to take care of yourself. put your phone down. it's killing your motivation. I am your roommate/babysitter not your maid/squalor hostage. I won't spend 2017 living like this.
I went to work, noting my adrenaline level was nil. When I got home, the dishes were done. The dog had food in her bowl. So I took out the trash. In both rooms, wiped down the kitchen counter.
Then for the first time in two weeks, I made something other than a frozen pizza for dinner. Chilli. And to do Glassy one better, I cleaned up my fucking mess.