I had a rough day yesterday, and finally the opportunity to work a bit later in the office. I usually have to go home and take care of the dog, since lately Partner Unit has been very stressed out at work and has too much to do. And since the weather is nice and crisp and not -25, I don't have too much of a problem going home and taking care of the Evil One.

But yesterday was a bit hard on me for a number of reasons, some of which I will go into in my next post. So when I finally got home, I was feeling pretty drag-ass and worn out.

Which, of course meant my Partner Unit and I were going to have a bust-up.

I get in and he is settled on the couch watching football (aka soccer). This is a bit unusual, since thankfully he is not a sports nut, however it was the Swedish finals and his favorite team was playing. I struggle out of my work clothes and into some boxers, and head downstairs to make myself a bowl of soup (since no dinner had been made. I was going to make lasagne, but came home too late).

I wearily check my mail-a letter from the Swedish immigration board, saying it will take about 5 months to process my application. Which, if I lose my job, will be about perfect timing. Depressing. I then trundle into the living room.

"Honey," he starts, and I know this is not going to be good. It is never good when he starts with the word "honey". It usually means I am about to be lectured for something.

"One of the cats peed on the rug downstairs. The runner by the washing machine."

I feel instantly angry. We had just swtiched cat litter types, and one of the Evil Bitches was making it perfectly clear she didn't like this new brand by not using the cat box. And since the grocery store was already closed, there was no remedying this by buying the usual brand tonight.

I sigh. "OK. Did you clean it up?"
"No. But I did open the window downstairs so it wouldn't smell like cat piss."
I look at him to see if he is joking.
He is not.

"Are you joking?" I ask, in case my eyes deceive me.
"No." replied. Ah, so no eye exam needed in my future.
"You left a rug with cat piss on it downstairs?" I am not sure if I believe this.
"Well, I put it next to the washing machine."
"Ah. Next to it. So it will clean itself by de facto geographical location? Since the rug and washing machine are buddies the rug will pick up a fresh-clean scent?"
"I opened the window." he replied defensively.
I nod. And I am annoyed. "Did it occur to you to put said nasty rug in the washing machine and clean it?"
"No."
"Can you go do that now?"
He shrugs. "Sure."

He goes and completes said extremely complicated household task. But I am the reigning PMS Bitch and I cannot let this one drop.

"How did you think the rug would get cleaned, dear? The Laundry Fairies? The ones that magically clean all of your clothes every week and replace them in your drawer?" I ask.
"It's possible. Those little fuckers are quick."
"Indeed. And they are about to go on strike."
"What?" he asks.
"I do ALL of the housework, dear. All of it."
"I vacuum!" he replied defensively.

Just then a dust bunny rolls by and actually sprouts legs before our very eyes and takes off in an offensive scamper on the dog, who looks terrified by this new turn in the chain of events.

"Right. When you last vacuumed was Alaska a part of the Union yet?"
He looks confused. I forgot that American humor generally lost on him.
"Look, just contribute, all right? I do all of the fucking housework, and the Laundry Fairies are sick of it." I snap.
"I do all of the yard work." he says smugly.
"Wrong. I mow the lawn and tend the flowers. You cut the firewood."
"I have cut all the firewood!"
"That's right, Grizzly Adams, but no one asked you to."

With that, I go downstairs and mop the entire cellar. Then I take a crazy sleeping tablet and go to bed. This is not my day.

And for dinner tonight, we have are having lasagne stuffed with Laundry Fairies. I am foregoing my usual vegetarianism in protest.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:38 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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