So, here we are. Everyone has been on their best behavior. Polite and smiley and overly concerned for each other's feelings. Fuck that shit. The cracks are already forming.
In the two days they have been here, I have heard about how unsafe our swingset is. Yes, I know it's rickety. Yes, I know we need to re-anchor it. My husband, your son, actually has to be home to do it.
Yes, I know the cats have scratched the hell out of our couches. Yes, I know they are ten years old. Yes, I do know they look ugly when we have company. No, I don't agree (or care) that people will not like our couches and judge us for it. Yes, I've heard of slipcovers. Your son doesn't like them and doesn't want to pay for any. Yes, I will discuss it again with him.
Yes, I would love it if you made a salad for dinner. No, I did not mean just for yourself. I did not give you our single, last tomato only for you to put it on your own plate and not share it with any of the rest of us. Same goes for the cucumber at breakfast this morning. When I come back from morning school drop-off, starving for breakfast and coffee to cheerfully have you announce that you have finished off the remainder the breakfast food, damn. That's just not right.
Looks like I need to start hoarding food under my bed.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Food Bandit
Posted by Not Afraid To Use It at 2:35 PM
Labels: Welcome To My Life
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5 comments:
What would happen if you suddenly announced that both fish and visitors stink after three days?
Seriously. In every culture across the globe, there is a time limit imposed on what is considered reasonable for a guest to inhabit one's home, village, hovel or couch.
Gahhhhhhhhhh!
well i didnt know you had tattered couches. i dont know if we can be internet friends anymore....
<3
I'm with Holly*. This will be my last visit until I see in my google reader that you have taken the slipcover plunge.
Ya'll are nothin' but a bunch of sofa snobs. ;)
Tell them to buy you a couch, and fix the swingset themselves if they have a problem with it. Otherwise, only only the homeowner has bitching privileges.
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