Two days ago, I decided to stop doing the dishes. I make all the dinners and I am tired of having to do all the cleaning too. SINCE THEN this pile has appeared and at some point they are going to run out of spoons and cups and plates.
Who will blink first? Not me.
Who will blink first? Not me.
NOT ME FUCKERS.
Day 3 - they’ve used the last of the big bowls and they’ve run out of spoons. No one is saying anything about the big pile but I can hear their brains ticking. No, family, I will not be loading the dishwasher today.
Spoke too soon. Irish has resorted to making tea with the baby’s weaning spoon and it using the emergency cup.
Let me know when you want to talk about the fact that I stopped doing the laundry too. It’s getting a bit post apocalyptic. The piles are everywhere.
There is a pan on the cooker with a single sausage in it. It’s been there for two days. I can’t look at it because it’s turned the colour of the man that washes up in Cast Away.
The last of the loo roll in the downstairs loo was used at 7:04pm last night. It hasn’t been replaced. They downstairs loo is now out of action for anyone that remembers. For anyone that doesn’t...god help them.
Going for a shower to cleanse my soul.
*David Attenborough voiceover* Now this is a most fascinating pile, a rare mix of items that historians will struggle to explain in years to come...
*David Attenborough’s extremely excited voice* Here we have some uniform, fragments of a monitor arm and some school uniform, all bundled closely together in the corner of the spare room. It’s been there for 36 days, unmoving, biding its time, but for WHAT? The mysteries of man.
SOMEONE JUST FORGOT THAT THERE’S NO TOILET ROLL IN THE DOWNSTAIRS LOO. Omg this is exciting.
Urgh no, stand down, hand wash.
The sausage of death.
God give me strength.
Someone just discovered the joy of scraping rock hard old cereal off a bowl. Big day, BIG, huge.
27 seconds of trying to scape that bowl, now multiply that by 6, and then multiply that by 7, then subtract the number of fucks I have left to give.
Guys...
Q - Do I switch on the dishwasher? It’s killing me. Knowing the dishwasher is full but just sitting there is KILLING ME.
I see that judgey fucking Twitter has woken up so let me say this once and be clear - We do not & #39;live like this& #39;. This is a lesson in wanting to be heard and respected and not having to repeat yourself when things slip. We& #39;re navigating the day-today in extraordinary times and
for me, the past two days have been funnier than anything else. I think we& #39;re all entitled to run our own experiments, be amused, push a situation to its limit if we so choose. No one needs to be lectured by those that have failed to see the silly joy in what& #39;s happening here.
4:41pm The dishwasher still isn’t on. The stress.
And every other loo! The toilet paper stacking is extremely Costco. There’s A LOT. Everywhere. SO MUCH LOO ROLL.
We keep our homes tidy because love. We cook food and set tables and fill the air with scents of roses and fresh laundry because love. Love is patient but love is also fucking tired because she works 14 hour days.
I know we are ALL tired but I am most tired. Me. I AM ALL THE TIRED.
Dinner is happening. I have used two pans and one knife. The last knife. I’ve got 3 more pans and then it’s baking sheets :(
Me: Did you not want to switch the dishwasher on earlier?
Irish: I ran out of time
Me:
Irish:
Irish: I ran out of time
Me:
Irish:
The dishwasher is now on.
Me walking into the kitchen
Him: Don’t step there! There’s mess on the floor! *starts cleaning*
Wait what?
Him: Don’t step there! There’s mess on the floor! *starts cleaning*
Wait what?
DOES HE KNOW?
Well it’s happened
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3 days. 3 days of not washing or picking up or tidying.
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You’re gonna have good days, bad days, and a lot of fuck it days, but people don’t like being taken for granted, especially by the ones they love the most. Period.
THAT IS NOT WORSE THAN ‘LIVE LAUGH LOVE’ but yeah, it’s close. I fucking hate myself.
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