Don’t be fooled this practice extends to other items in the house as well including cereal (both hot and cold), mouthwash pretty much anything that can be left to the last morsel chips or even the last drop….soap, whatever. And for this reason I must check everything. The checking is really what gets under my skin. It’s not that there’s no more or let me rephrase because clearly there’s something left it’s the fact that if said bottles or containers aren’t see thru I have no way of knowing until I go to pour myself some orange juice. And believe me at 7:00AM in the morning heading out the door to the office it’s just not the right time to surprise me with a squirt of OJ….seriously though now my whole f*cking morning is ruined.
Clearly the Little Brother has an issue with finishing anything…why I don’t know he also has an issue with closing the shower curtain after he’s done, go figure.
Ugh, this is why I don’t like roommates, sometimes. In general living with The Little Brother works well. He is around when I need him to lug my heavy arse laundry bag down the stairs. Most times he remembers to do his chores without
The last time I had to go there involved the taking back of his car key….not pretty!
His perks outweigh mine though. He gets full use of my car without the decency of ever filling it up with gas or paying for general maintenance which also includes washing or vacuuming. He lives in a fantabulous apartment minus the ghetto that exists around us that he can’t afford. Totally heart my apartment, totally hate the neighborhood….if I had it to do over, or if I had the time to actually devote to looking I would move. But this is a story for another time. I exist as a 24hr bank account that never gets deposits just withdrawals but by no means bounces or says insufficient funds. And on some days I even have the privilege of selecting outfits for him to wear on dates with chicks using my car and 9 times out of 10 on my dime.
Clearly I am getting the short end of this here stick. Not to mention the damn boy can’t remember not to soak my friggin bathroom rug. Bathroom mats serve dual purposes, decoration and excess water catchers. The key word in that sentence was excess, it is not a towel and should at no time be soaking wet. Stepping on sloshy damp rug barefoot ain’t fun and will turn Faith into mean Faith instantaneously.
Sometimes I consider this my cross. Everyone must carry one to make it to the promise land. Of course The Little Brother does cart me back and forth to work (on the days I go to the office) with very little lip. But he should given his many many many privileges. In some ways I guess that makes me a touch spoiled and maybe I shouldn’t rant about him.
Side note: So why did I wake up hot with no electricity…..I will blog more later and now I am calling the Spaniard to take me home…this can’t end well. Oh and Fellow Traveler discovered my work secret…mum is the word!