I was going to run the dishwasher. If I don't run the dishwasher, then the dishes will be dirty when The Man comes home, and he will spend the evening fussing over the dishes and I will be lonely and resentful. However, there is no detergent under the sink. There is supposed to be detergent under the sink. Well I'm not going down to the basement to see if there is a backup box of detergent. Cleaning supply replenishment from the basement is The Man's job. So the dishes won't get clean. So what? At least, when I am lonely and resentful and sulking about it, I'll have my ideological purity to keep me warm.
OK. I went down to the basement and retrieved a backup box of detergent (there were two, because
Dirtbunny is exceptionally skilled at keeping the household well stocked, not that anyone notices or appreciates it). And I ran the dishwasher. Because I am a sheep. And a good soldier. A fucking good soldier and a fucking team player. Not that it ever got me anything.
Not that anyone cares. [sniff sniff]
[
Dirtbunny goes off to weep and sulk anyway]
Nobody likes me
Everybody hates me
Going to the garden
To eat worms
Big fat squishy ones
Big long skinny ones.....
[I forget the rest]
2 comments:
We love you.
Not the squishy or the skinny. I will try to remember the detergent, and spend less time on the dishes.
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