They Are Pissing Me Off!

My Soapless (apparently)-Operatic Life

"Cleanliness is next to godliness." -Some obnoxious asshole
"Cleanliness is almost as bad as godliness." -Samuel Butler
"In my experience, Cupid's arrows rarely strike two people with the same definition of cleanliness. One partner usually feels like he or she is being asked to live in a furniture exhibit in the British Museum. The other partner remains convinced that he or she is forced to contend with the human version of Hurricane Gilbert." -Margo Kaufman

They are

REALLY

PISSING ME OFF.

Yes, I know it is trivial to gripe about bathroom problems in the journal, that it is disgusting and nobody wants to hear this crap. But I'm REALLY FUCKING STEAMED about it and can't shut up. So just skip this post today if you can't stand it.

Okay, when I get home from morning class I shower and then clean the bathroom for (timed it) 45 minutes. (NOT 15. In what universe do you live in to think that it takes 15 minutes to scrub every item?) Scrubbed the entire floor, toilet, shower, every inch of everything. Leave a note on their door saying I did it. Which I know Megan sees when she comes in and I go out to lunch.

I come back later to find the note JUST CLEAN IT!!! on the door. I write back I DID TODAY! and leave, conscience clean, stomach nauseated (I always feel nauseous while cleaning). I go out to the pool area for awhile. I see them come back later and overhear them STILL bitching about how I haven't cleaned it.

Go to afternoon class (boring as shit), find the REALLY lovely note that (I'd go out and copy it for you, but that would let them on that I'm back in here) "No, you didn't, I cleaned it, go see how it's done."

My God. I cleaned it for 45 minutes and it's STILL NOT GOOD ENOUGH???? WHAT ARE YOU, MY MOTHER????????? Hell, my MOTHER isn't as picky. Even she would have let me off after 45 minutes.

I am REALLY FUCKING STEAMED. Got that song about whatever I do isn't good enough for you in my head. I can't clean well enough for THEIR standards, how the hell am I gonna stand a year of living with the bitches? Really, what am I supposed to do? Call Mommy and ask her how to clean even better? I thought SHE was bad about this stuff. Spend an hour and a half licking the floor?

With that and all the screaming bratlets roaming the halls today, I am so fucking sick of the dorms. I miss my old roommates who didn't care if the place was sterile. If I didn't have to come back here for my IRC meeting for Spotfans, I would just not come back at all tonight. I am so fucking pissed off and embarrassed too.

Oh, and I noticed on the rafting signups that Angela signed herself up for it. Still nobody else has done it, including me. I may just not bother, or maybe I'll do it tomorrow so it's not so obvious that I wrote the rude lil' note.

10:45 p.m. update:

"It was not clean, I cleaned it" is how the note begins. I don't remember the rest, but tells me to look at how it should be. So after hiding away from here all afternoon and night (and when I was here I kept the lights off so nobody knew I was here- hate having the front room), I come back tonight, fortunately none of 'em were up here (I think one may be now. Chelsea was standing around in the road when I came back though, she just looked at me, no expression. Well fine then, bitch) and looked at the wonderment of cleaning jobs.

I'm in trouble.

It didn't look any different to me. Seriously. I don't get it at all. And I am SO screwed.

I didn't mention this, but I had a weird dream last night- I dreamed that The Moron had gotten into Davis (yeah, right) and had gotten a job as a columnist in the newspaper! (Usurping me? Wow, least likely thing there) I never actually SAW him- did a lot of avoidance- but was very annoyed.

Haven't seen my lust object in a week now. Boy, does that suck. I think the attraction part of me has cooled way down- having a hard time remembering all the physical details, but mentally I'm still looking and fuming when he's not where I want him to be. And of course, I'm still annoyed about all the canceled stuff. Very.

Now I actually WANT to go home this weekend and get the fuck out of here. (Too bad I didn't do it stay last weekend and go this one.) Not like I'm going to have anything to DO other than draw-till-ya-puke.

I somehow see a shopping trip in my future of boredom.

My life is in the (apparently dirty) toilet.

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