I had a bad day because I got out of work late and I didn't make it to Jamaica. Now I'm seriously fucked. I still make time to go out of my way and get groceries for the both of us.
I come home... WITH A BIG BAG OF GROCERIES.. and you're sitting there. On the couchy. Like a lazy fat ass. Watching Breaking Bad.
The house.. is exactly how I left it. Sushi wrappers everywhere, a new take out box just laying there. Ketchup on the table. Forks, plates, bowls, everything just laying there... Within one foot of your body. It's just laying there.
You don't even notice I come in. Notice that the timing shows that I didn't make it to Jamaice. Notice that I came home with food.
I stare at you a little bit. Then politely ask, "When your show is done, can you help me clean up?"... No response. "Did you hear me?" "Huh?" So I repeat. Your response, "Clean what?" As if there isn't a bag of bread OPENED on the stove. The remains of my swiss cheese (that I so dearly craved and saved for myself) sitting on the stove for 2 DAYS.
Show finishes, I'VE STILL BEEN DOING DISHES FOR 40+ MINUTES. "Vasili can you come help me?" 5 minutes... You get up. Shove bread on fridge. Throw wrapper. Go to bathroom.
The recycling bin is STILL laying out there from when you had a hissy fit last week and threw all the tools on the ground. The bag is broke and we can't put the recycling bin back unless we move all the tools to a new bag. I find a new bag... put it next to it. And ask you to put tools in new bag so we can put recycling back.
I check later... The tools were haphazardly thrown into the bag (Still many on the bottom of the cabinet), and the bag is now in the recycling bin.