Parents come home tomorrow. Yet another disruption, probably filled with questions about going back to school or finding a new job or cleaning the house or "finding a program," whatever the fuck that means.
In preparation of them coming home, I have had to make sure that everything at the house is tidy. That meant that I had to bring in that babe from yesterday to clean the house, but that's not all that has to be done. I have to throw all my papers into a bag, take that bag to storage (as well as all the bags I took out of storage in a failed attempt to sort through them all), take all my bed stuff back out of my sister's room (which used to be my room -- and still should be) and back into my current bedroom (which actually is Grandmother's room), then clean out the garbage and wash and dry all the rags the niece used last night. Oh, and I have to go through the mail, too. Oh, and there is a bunch of carrots I should eat, or throw away.
I could be having fun now. I could be happy now. I could be watching Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Fianls now. Instead I'm stuck covering my ass in anticipation of the return of my folks, and I hate it. Them coming home from a cruise should not be this stressful. We should just be happy to see each other, like normal folks. But no, it'll be fucking judgement and nagging and guilt trips.
I resent needing to spend all these days doing fucking chores. It shouldn't matter if they come back to a dirty house and a dirty bathroom; you're home, isn't that good enough?! Now, I will say that since I have to do all these chores, there isn't a better time to do them than just before they come home, so assuming that they have to come home at some point I'll have to do some of this shit anyway. But taking out my papers, and cleaning the house? Normal parents wouldn't get bent out of shape over that. Too goddamn bad for me that I wasn't born or raised under normal parents.
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