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I hate my house. The main reason I hate it is because I cannot have friends over without untold hours of cleaning beacause my family consists of packrats. I was not even having any friends over on Saturday but my sister was having two over for a late birthday party so I got roped into helping. First of all, even though this has nothing to do with my family being packrats, our old fridge, which sits in the garage, well...its power went out on Saturday the 16th. Unbeknownest to us until the following Monday at roughly 11:30 pm. All of the offending food was put into garbage bags and left to sit in the garage until that following Saturday. So if you have been counting, the food has been without refridgeration for a full week now. And of course the bags had to rip and were now infested with flys and maggots. I was forced to aid in their removal on the Saturday that people were coming to our house. When that was done, being the most disgusting thing I can remember, I was given some down time. But not much. I was then asked to blow the leaves and twigs off the deck with the leaf blower. A job which should have taken minimal time but instead took an hour. After which I was asked to mow the lawn with the push mower. I only stress this point because the previous day, I had hurt my ankle (or cankle for some of you to get a giggle out of) pretty bad and was having pain walking on it. I believe the whole ankle hurting incident started with myself saying "That was the most disturbing band-aid commercial I have ever seen.". But back to the main story. So after the pain of walking circles arond the yard pushing a lawn mower, I was asked to make dinner (and when I have been saying asked, it is one of those 'you will do this anyway but it seems nicer of us to make it seem like you were given a choice'). Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy cooking and making dinner, but after a day of manual labor, I didn't want to. I ended up doing it anyway. And now you understand why I hate my house. This was only for two people. I did not even mention what every body else was doing whilst I was doing my jobs. The amount of work needed for a party of actual size would be unthinkable. And so, another neurosis is added to my growing list. Oh how a psychologist would have a field day trying to crack into this nutshell. All of those memories that just won't repress. REPRESS DAMN YOU, REPRESS! |
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