I confronted my roommate about her lack of cleaning tonight.

It didn't go super well.

I asked her to please finish chores she starts, like taking the garbage all the way out to the dumpster, instead of leaving it in the kitchen or the foyer.

She told me I do the exact same thing when I'm working.

Except...let's look at it.

When I was working, I was working 7am-7:30pm. I had to get up at 5:30am every morning to make sure I was ready, and to get to work on time. My commute home was about 40 minutes.

So that, roughly, already takes up 15 hours of my day, which leaves nine to eat, sleep, do laundry, etc.

On top of that, it was a mentally and physically demanding job, so by the end of the day, I would be fried.

What is my roommate doing?

Processing parking tickets. In an office. For a paltry eight hours.

Muffin.

She also told me that it would be nice if I cleaned the bathroom once in a while.

Her husband cleaned the bathroom most recently.

Who did it before that?

Oh, I did?

Funny.

Needless to say, I'm fuming mad, and I'm going to be hiding in the basement for a while.

I didn't even get around to the dishes, or the empty bottles, or the kitty litter, or the sweeping, or the counter wiping, or the fridge cleaning, or any of that mess.

Because fuck.

Ugh.

I need to live alone. Soon.

.

Rosie.

PS, Little known fact: I hold grudges. For a really, really, really long time. I've always been that way. I don't know why. It just is. But it means that if you kill a friendship, it will stay dead.

Before&After