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For the love of God...
Jul. 30th, 2004 10:52 pmAra mi friggin' Kami. Stick a fork in me, I'm done.
I hearby swear that I will never be a perfectionist or a domestic. If I have a knife near me, I'd do a blood oath on it.
Grandmother went out drinking today. If I've told you about my Grandmother's drinking, you're probably thinking "Oh shit, not again." You would be 100% correct too.
See, today I was supposed to do the laundry, as usual. Seperate clothes, wash each load, dry towels four at a time to not overload the dryer, check lint trap often. Easy, ne?
But Grandmother comes back home and the laundry's pretty much done- to my standards. As in, clothes are that need to be on hangers, are. Clothes that aren't are on the dryer to be sorted later after Stargate because nothing comes between me and my eyecandy. But apprently the load that just came out of the dryer isn't dry. WTF? Grandmother starts going through the piles chanting "Wet, it's wet. It's fucking wet." Dry, it's fucking DRY! God, give me patience. After a bit of bickering, I stomp off to my room and lay down in the dark, no music. I needed to clam down and that's the quickest way to do it.
She comes in and tells me to stop sulking. 'Fuck off' was the first thought on my mind, but I restrained myself (biting my tongue in the process).
Later, while I'm settling down to read a good WAFF fic, which as you know is the best solution to any upset, when she comes in and starts acting like she's trying to help me, I shouldn't take her seriously, etc. God damn, is it that hard for her to fucking apologize?!
So I'm pretty fed up with her shit. Next time, I won't take it.
~Lucia
I hearby swear that I will never be a perfectionist or a domestic. If I have a knife near me, I'd do a blood oath on it.
Grandmother went out drinking today. If I've told you about my Grandmother's drinking, you're probably thinking "Oh shit, not again." You would be 100% correct too.
See, today I was supposed to do the laundry, as usual. Seperate clothes, wash each load, dry towels four at a time to not overload the dryer, check lint trap often. Easy, ne?
But Grandmother comes back home and the laundry's pretty much done- to my standards. As in, clothes are that need to be on hangers, are. Clothes that aren't are on the dryer to be sorted later after Stargate because nothing comes between me and my eyecandy. But apprently the load that just came out of the dryer isn't dry. WTF? Grandmother starts going through the piles chanting "Wet, it's wet. It's fucking wet." Dry, it's fucking DRY! God, give me patience. After a bit of bickering, I stomp off to my room and lay down in the dark, no music. I needed to clam down and that's the quickest way to do it.
She comes in and tells me to stop sulking. 'Fuck off' was the first thought on my mind, but I restrained myself (biting my tongue in the process).
Later, while I'm settling down to read a good WAFF fic, which as you know is the best solution to any upset, when she comes in and starts acting like she's trying to help me, I shouldn't take her seriously, etc. God damn, is it that hard for her to fucking apologize?!
So I'm pretty fed up with her shit. Next time, I won't take it.
~Lucia
