If you come home from several weeks away for work where you dined out at decent San Francisco restaurants on a company credit card while I grappled with a refrigerator full of slowly decaying leftovers from a stupid fucking party that was too big and too long (sandwich fixings that I dislike and never eat of my own volition but feel too guilty to throw away), wrangled a feverish kid for two consecutive weekends by myself while you were gone AND did my work AND participated in a wonderful opportunity to further MY career with all the “extra” time I don’t really have and the first thing you do when home is barely suppress sighs of displeasure at how disorderly the house is while you clean it up, neglecting the whole time to recognize or even notice how I cleaned the toilets (which you’ve done maybe twice that I can remember) and the tubs, swept the cat-fur ridden floors, mopped the kitchen floor that was so dirty it had a grey cast, emptied the putrid compost, and otherwise did the best I could…and then you act like a self-
righteous asshole when I say to your sighs, “I said nothing when you decided to take a nap instead of putting the Halloween decorations away the last time you were home. That was a choice *you* made,” BECAUSE OH I FORGOT, YOU ARE NEVER WRONG,
Then FUCK. YOU.
And the leather jacket you had time to buy for yourself in San Francisco, and the horse you rode in on.
Because you know what? As stressed and busy as you are, I AM ALSO STRESSED AND BUSY–too fucking busy and tired to go around passive- fucking-aggressively SIGHING at you.
Excuse the iPhone autofill typos