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emmanation

You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

Archive for March, 2011

ain’t nothing wrong with that

Wednesday, March 2nd, 2011

Today I was cranky.

Cranky cranky cranky.

I have a whole bunch of work to do because two of my professors and my grant advisor all JUST realized that spring break is the week after next, and golly-gee but they thought we’d have more done by now. Well, we’ll just have to do a little extra work to catch up, right? Right?

Plus the next three nights I’l be sleeping at my mom’s house with her dogs, because she’ll be out of town. I don’t mind at all – she takes care of my dogs, I take care of hers. Fair trade. (Although now, my dogs have a live in manny in the form of Crockett.

No one ever tell him I said that.)

The idea of sleeping away from home stresses me out, though. It’s just the way I’ve always been.

AND, two days from now I have a doctors appointment that I’m dreading. Thank you to everyone who reassured me that it won’t be so bad – I really appreciate it. I feel better about it, but not great about it – know what I mean?

AND, this morning I had to spend three hours on the phone with GoDaddy because all of the behind the scenes baloney was wonked up and I couldn’t log in and sigh. It doesn’t really matter. I’m on linux now, if you care. It’s theoretically going to help.

I realize that none of these are world ending.

Oh, I forgot – also? My dogs were a gigantic pain in the ass today. They always are when I’m cranky. It’s like they  can sense it.

When Crockett got home from work I told him about the dogs being evil because of my crankiness, and he very sensibly asked how much of that is my perception and how much of it is real.

And then I ninja kicked him in the throat.

In my head.

See?
Cranky.

The ‘if you care’ school of thought

Tuesday, March 1st, 2011

So you know Crockett and I live together now.

It’s been over a month.

I know – I sort of expected to be kicked out by now too. He can barely close the refrigerator, freezer, and pantry anymore. Our bathroom counter is covered with pairs of dirty glasses, glasses cleaner, contact lens cases, lens cleaner, mascara, perfume, several moisturizers, shampoos, body washes, more eye shadow than he has probably ever seen before in one place, and girly detritus in the trash can.

I seriously thought he might crack.

He’s lived here with boys or by himself for 7 years, mostly. The girly trash could easily have been the breaking point.

However, we’re fine. The touchiest experience thus far has been when Maida carried a tampon into his office while he was working. Don’t worry, it wasn’t used. It was unwrapped, but not used. I have no idea where she got it, if you’re wondering. He was a little freaked out, but I was too, so … you know, we’re good.

Sunday night, though, he came home from a nine day ski trip and he cleaned the bathroom before coming to bed.

Let me restate this for emphasis. He arrived home, having been skiing with lots of men for nine days, and before going to sleep in his own bed with his own girlfriend, he scrubbed the bathtub.

I cannot imagine the circumstances under which I would do the same, and that made me wonder if perhaps the bathtub had been a mess and I just hadn’t noticed. Then I wondered if there were other good-roommate/girlfriend chores that I should have been pitching in on that I hadn’t noticed.

Yes, I could ask.

Instead, I’ve decided to adopt Temerity Jane’s division of household labor policy.

That would be the ‘if you give a shit, it’s your job’ school of thought.

Here’s what I give a shit about.

  • A clean dining room table.
  • A moderately organized coat rack.
  • Wiped down kitchen counters and dishes that are kept wet until they’re ready to be washed. Dried food is the devil.
  • Fresh, dry, hung up towels in the bathroom.
  • Having enough containers laying around that stuff can have a place, even if it doesn’t have a PLACE place, and putting the stuff in its temporary or permanent home rather than having it live on the flat surfaces of our home.
  • The dogs being fed and walked and groomed in an appropriate timeframe.

That’s it. That’s what I care about. Everything else can go directly to hell and I’ll probably never even notice. Crockett, on the other hand, apparently cares about a clean bathtub. He definitely cares about laundry – as in, he washes colors and whites separately. I stopped washing whites and colors separately when I was 17 and moved into the dorms and laundry started costing me quarters that I could otherwise spend on Diet Coke. He likes to vacuum.

HE LIKES TO VACUUM.

I’m just going to say it: he has weird priorities.

My plan is to deal with the things that I care about, let him deal with the things he cares about. In a month or so, we’ll see what’s fallen through the cracks.

Here’s hoping it isn’t anything major.