I hate chores.
I always have. I remember as a kid (living in small town Maine) having to do chores like bringing wood in for the fire, doing dishes…..cleaning my room. And it was all well and good because I got paid for it. I remember pretending to be asleep jumping at the chance to do my chores. It was the worst best part of my day. My parents had to constantly nag me never had to ask me twice to do my daily chores. I was in fact a saintly child who was never a bother.
In high school I attended a boarding school where we had room inspections Sunday through Friday every night before lights out. And every night
including Saturday I would wait until the last possible minute jump at the chance to make sure my room spic and span by shoving everything under my bed.
From there I joined the military where the racks were made with hospital corners, shoes were covered down and dressed, and not a dust bunny was to be found (not even in the darkest corner). Not to mention mandatory field day every Saturday and the usual sweepers every day at the end of the work day. Yes, the military does actually have a ‘work day’.
One would think that with all this amazing back ground in making sure daily things were taken care of that I would be one heck of a homemaker.
Think again! Like I said, I hate chores. I put them off to the last minute, and usually only do the half ass. Two weeks ago I forgot to take the trash out
again. This happens often every once in a while. I actually laid in bed (trash pick up is the middle of the night) and listened as the trash truck slowly creeped by my house. I didn’t even make an effort to run after it, instead I tweeted it. Duh, what did you think I’d do? I was in bed damn it, the trash can wait! You don’t get to be this good looking by running after trash trucks in the middle of the night.
Evidently this trash problem is a common occurence among my fellow adults. As is other ‘adult’ chores. So I started to think of all the adult chores I dislike, and why. So here it goes for your reading enjoyment.
- Taking the trash out. I don’t like sticking my finger in trash juice, which happens every damn time I take it out.
- Taking the recycling out. I LOVE beer. I HATE the smell of stale beer.
- Scooping cat poop. It’s cat poop, there’s nothing more I can say about that.
- Washing the windows. What’s the point? I don’t sit there looking out of them and the minions are going to smudge their fingers on them again any way.
- Dusting the ceiling fans. I don’t like dust in my eyes. I don’t like wearing safety glasses. And I figure if I keep them turned up the dust will stay off of them….right? No? Damn.
- Putting laundry away. I’m just going to wear it soon anyway, and the damn cats keep finding their way into my drawers to sleep all over my clothes. This means they have to be washed again because they are now covered in fur.
- Folding laundry. This leads to #6.
- Washing laundry. This leads to #7 which leads to #6.
- Cleaning the fridge. *shutters* It’s gross under the vegetable drawer.
I want nothing to do with it until it smells.
- Cleaning the oven. With my luck I’ll have it on while I’m half way in it and I’ll cook to death.
I’d rather just burn the shmegma off as I bake more cookies.
- Cleaning the coffee pot. I’m a sailor, we thrive off that black layer of crust that forms on the bottom of the pot. It’s like our crack.
- Killing pantry moths. I hate those fuckers, but killing them means having to empty out the pantry so I can spray. That’s very time consuming. I don’t have a lot of time.
- Cleaning the inside of my car. My kids are gross. It’s their fault. I’m waiting for them to be old enough to do it themselves. It should keep them busy for a while.
- Cleaning the toilet. *vomit* If you could smell the stuff that comes out of the asses of the male inhabitants of my house you wouldn’t want to go near it either. I should add that my shit doesn’t stink;)
- Cleaning the tub. It’s awkward. You have to climb in to do a good job. If I’m in there I might as well take a shower. Then I have voided all my previous work.
- Cleaning around the base of the toilet. There are two males in my house. One is short and can’t always ‘reach’ over the rim. The other is a sharp shooter at the range but usually a zombie at home. I’m sure he misses as well.
- Paying bills. Just once I want a couple hundred dollars left over to ‘play’ with. I have the fact that my car payment and electric company HAVE to have that money. Jerks.
So there it is, my evil top 17 adult chores that I hate. I want them to stop. I want to buy that house boy I’ve always dreamed of. You know that one that dresses in Daisy Duke shorts, tube top, and glitter eye shadow? Yeah, that one. And I want his name to be Fernando and have a spanish accent. Spanish, not Puertorican or Venezuelan. I’m not asking that much am I? It’s not like I need him to also give me pedicures and full body massages.
Although that would be nice and a nice added benefit.
So please, if your name is Fernando and you fit that description please send me an email with an attached photo and mp3 of your accent. Thank you.