Sigh. I'm-so-fucking-easy, honestly! :P
August 25, 2010
So the brat is staying with me for two weeks while his mom is out of the country. Having another person, and a fifteen-year old at that, live with me is a mixed pleasure. I realize I've gotten used to coming home to my comfy apartment expecting that everything will be exactly as I left it. My house is cleaned every morning, the dishes are washed and kept away and by the time I'm ready to leave for work the bed is made, clothes are ironed and hung in the closet and everything is pretty much as it should be. Enter this little-menace and I come home to utter chaos. Both air-conditioners are turned on, the television is loud enough to wake the dead and his royal highness sprawled on my bed watching a movie. It's disconcerting, to say the least. I walk into the kitchen trying very hard not to feel like the three-bears post Goldilock's invasion to find a throng of dirty dishes in the sink (how many can one kid go through in just a few hours?!) and the remnants of whatever-he-tried-to-cook stuck on the stove. I have to jump over his clothes to go to the bathroom, and there's no space left for me on my bed given that he's diagonally stretched out across it. And just when I'm sure I can't-take-this-shit-anymore, he gets up, gives me a hug, offers to heat me some food and asks me how my day was. And just like that, all sins are forgiven.