Burn the Deli Down

Dick and Jane.

Has someone ever told you the same story more than once? Probably. And when this happens we pretend we never heard it and fake the same reaction to spare their embarrassment, or we politely say, 'oh yeah you told me this.' Rarely to people keep telling the SAME FUCKING STORY over and over and over and over unless they have dementia, or short term memory loss. Dick and Jane do not have either of these. And yet, they are comfortable with having the same conversation over and over again. I stopped listening, mostly. I started to pretend I wasn't listening, but unfortunately still heard everything they were saying.

Example: Dick and Jane went to a deli about a week ago. Every day since they have talked non stop about this deli. It has sandwiches and soups and 25 different kinds of tea! Shocking. Oh and it's cheap. Did I mention it had sandwiches? And it has eggs. And 25 different kinds of tea! They told us over and over and over and over that we had to go there. That we would love it. Finally to get Dick to shut the fuck up about this deli, I told him I didn't like deli food or eggs. Guess what? It didn't work. He just continued to talk about the deli, and then would add 'except you don't like sandwiches and eggs because you're weird and you probably wouldn't like it there...oh wait do you like dessert?' Oh god. Here we go. I told Shawn I wanted to burn the deli down. Honestly, I'd almost rather spend my life in prison then hear anymore about The Deli.

The Heater is Killing Your Kidneys

Another story Dick and Jane like to tell over and over? The heater has been dehydrating them, inside and out. And that they are cold at night. But they never combine these stories together because they use the same reasoning for both but in different ways.

Example: We were all talking about how cold it is at night. I said "Our room is freezing at night, and it makes sense because heat rises, so it's all on the second floor." Their response, "no it really doesn't because our room is freezing at night too." So they complain that we should stop turning the heater down. BUT then this conversations starts not long after: "Man I've been so dehydrated, have you?" Says Jane. "Nope not really," says I. Their response, "Oh well we're obviously more dehydrated because all the heat rises to the second floor." The response I wish I said, "No, you're more dehydrated because you both drink a grip of vodka and no water before bed. You smoke a pack of cigs at night, and you both sleep with your mouths open. It's not rocket science, and it's no mystery."

I will admit my lips are more chapped and it is because of the constant dry air from the heater, but it's not affecting my kidney function in anyway.

The Never Ending Bowl of Mess

My last annoyance of the day. I'm not going to sit here and say that I am a neat freak, because I am not. In fact I tend to be a bit slobbish at times. But even I have my limits of filth. Dick and Jane don't seem to have these same limits. Which I guess, to each his/her own, which is fine when you live alone, but they don't. And not only do they not give two shits about cleaning, they are not in the least bit grateful.

Example: Shawn and I cleaned all weekend while they were out of town. They both come home and Dick goes to sleep right away. Jane hangs out for awhile and doesn't seem to have anything negative to say. Until this comes out, "Hey I know you guys worked really hard to clean and whatnot, but next time, don't touch my stuff." She was referring to the 'sewing room' which is supposed to be the 'girls room.' And all we did was place a small T.V. that was on the floor on her sewing table so we could sweep and mop. Then she followed her bitchy remark with, "I don't give a fuck if that room is dirty, just DONT TOUCH MY STUFF." So really when she said the room was for the girls she meant just herself, and when she told me that I could use her sewing machine she really meant, don't touch her fucking stuff. Awesome.

The thing that bugs me most about this household is that the rules aren't brought up to us until we break them. We are constantly being set up to fail. It's a chaotic disaster and I'm sick of worrying what they are going to disapprove of this time. I feel like I am constantly walking on eggshells. There is no bloody room in the fridge or pantry but if we move anything to fit our things, they have a fit because they cant find what's there's even though they didn't seem to need it for weeks until we moved it. They never do the dishes and the day after they got home the house was somehow a mess again. The once clean toilet seat had piddle stains again. The once cleared out sink was full of dishes. The once clutter free coffee table was buried again. And the thing that bugs me the most is they don't even care.

I wonder if they'll care once we leave.