Living with my brother...
...Is way worse than living with my mom. Sure, I don't need to cover up the smell of pot, and I can have parties when I want to. I can sleep with my boyfriend. Those things are all nice. But in exchange I get a constantly dirty house, a constantly dirty kitchen, and absolutely, positively, zero respect. I'm a simple creature. There are very simple things that keep me happy: a clean house, free of clutter. A clean sink so I can refill my Brita. The ability to walk to the bathroom naked when I go to take a shower. A clean shower, so I actually feel like taking one. Oh, and not having all but one of my favorite coffee cups disappearing would be super-cool, too. I had four absolutely beautiful coffee cups that my sister gave to me as a graduation gift. The type of cups that made me look forward to my morning coffee just that much more. Made me want to do the dishes just a bit more often. The type of cups that, when set on the coaster of the living room table, made the whole room illuminate in it's beauty. You know the kind. I've been watching as they, one by one, have been disappearing into my brother's bedroom and car. Suddenly, there was 3. Then two. And now, one renegade cup that is mine, and mine alone. I can no longer share. Frogstar shares my pain. His mother gave him two very large handcrafted mugs last christmas. They were something out of Morrowind; tall, blue, and very shiny. One was a little fatter than the other, but it was good that way. It was special. Now there is only one left, and we're left with the question: is it that fat one, or the skinny one? Will we ever know? This morning I finally confronted my brother about the case of the missing cups, and instead of taking this opportunity to apologize for the emotional scarring the whole ordeal has done to the both of us, he got defensive, telling me he had ONE coffee cup in his car, and that is all, and he is NOT responsible for the numerous other missing cups. I think I may cut off his internet connection. You know, the one I've been feeding to his computer using MY router and MY antenna... you know, the one I paid for for 6 months, the one Frogstar has been paying for about 2. Of course he'd bitch. Just like I should when Frogstar and I spend the evening cleaning off all the tables, wiping everything down, doing dishes, vacuuming, and otherwise making the house look presentable...and he sits down, sighs loudly, complains about the weather, and then proceeds to kick off his shoes into the middle of the floor, pull off his socks and throw them in a generally similar manner, and clip his toenails on the clear coffee table. And then, and THEN, saying something to the degree of "you know, guys, we should really keep the house clean." I could just kill him.
So now I'm going to call that one guy and bug him about that apartment application we turned in on Monday. I really hope we get it.
EDIT: He just brought in Frogstar's other coffee mug. The handle is broken off.
...Is way worse than living with my mom. Sure, I don't need to cover up the smell of pot, and I can have parties when I want to. I can sleep with my boyfriend. Those things are all nice. But in exchange I get a constantly dirty house, a constantly dirty kitchen, and absolutely, positively, zero respect. I'm a simple creature. There are very simple things that keep me happy: a clean house, free of clutter. A clean sink so I can refill my Brita. The ability to walk to the bathroom naked when I go to take a shower. A clean shower, so I actually feel like taking one. Oh, and not having all but one of my favorite coffee cups disappearing would be super-cool, too. I had four absolutely beautiful coffee cups that my sister gave to me as a graduation gift. The type of cups that made me look forward to my morning coffee just that much more. Made me want to do the dishes just a bit more often. The type of cups that, when set on the coaster of the living room table, made the whole room illuminate in it's beauty. You know the kind. I've been watching as they, one by one, have been disappearing into my brother's bedroom and car. Suddenly, there was 3. Then two. And now, one renegade cup that is mine, and mine alone. I can no longer share. Frogstar shares my pain. His mother gave him two very large handcrafted mugs last christmas. They were something out of Morrowind; tall, blue, and very shiny. One was a little fatter than the other, but it was good that way. It was special. Now there is only one left, and we're left with the question: is it that fat one, or the skinny one? Will we ever know? This morning I finally confronted my brother about the case of the missing cups, and instead of taking this opportunity to apologize for the emotional scarring the whole ordeal has done to the both of us, he got defensive, telling me he had ONE coffee cup in his car, and that is all, and he is NOT responsible for the numerous other missing cups. I think I may cut off his internet connection. You know, the one I've been feeding to his computer using MY router and MY antenna... you know, the one I paid for for 6 months, the one Frogstar has been paying for about 2. Of course he'd bitch. Just like I should when Frogstar and I spend the evening cleaning off all the tables, wiping everything down, doing dishes, vacuuming, and otherwise making the house look presentable...and he sits down, sighs loudly, complains about the weather, and then proceeds to kick off his shoes into the middle of the floor, pull off his socks and throw them in a generally similar manner, and clip his toenails on the clear coffee table. And then, and THEN, saying something to the degree of "you know, guys, we should really keep the house clean." I could just kill him.
So now I'm going to call that one guy and bug him about that apartment application we turned in on Monday. I really hope we get it.
EDIT: He just brought in Frogstar's other coffee mug. The handle is broken off.