Tag Archives: w(h)ine

monday morning.

28 Nov

So at this point I just assume there’s going to be leftover grounds in the coffee maker when I go to make coffee.
And undrunk, lukewarm coffee in the pot.
So I’ll have to clean it out twice instead of just once.

And at this point when I pull back the shower curtain –
Oh, no, wait, I never pull it back because no one ever closes it.
So I have to close it. And the crappy hooks inevitably fall out of the perforated holes and rain down around me.

But when I get in the shower,
at this point I just expect there to be bottles all over the floor of it
(half of them mine)
with, no doubt,
a good portion of their contents spilled out and run down the drain.
Not to mention the huge clumps of dark hair
that are always, always sitting on the side of the shower.
It seems everyone desperately does not want them to go down the drain
so we end up standing in four inches of water later on,
but no one really cares if they actually make it into the trashcan.
Either that or they just assume their mom is going to clean it up for them, eventually.

And at this point I just expect things of mine to constantly go missing,
or get eaten,
or be knocked over,
or get broken,
or be dirtied by someone who is not me.

 I know I live with seven other girls,
and share a bathroom with four.
I’m okay with things being a little cluttered sometimes,
and my space being slightly invaded.
I like the girls I live with.

But is it so much to ask
that when I leave for a weekend
half of my things in my bathroom cabinet aren’t just gone when I get back?
Or the note I left on top of the dryer
that so nicely requested whoever used it next put my clothes on top of my bed
since I was in Utah
not be completely disregarded
and my clothes left in the garage for a week,
acquiring that oh-so-lovely garagey smell
and getting dirty socks piled on top of them?

Is it so much to ask
that the desk I keep in the living room for everyone to use
not get so covered with books and papers and crap
(and the mail that everyone brings in and no one politely disperses)
that it becomes unuseable?
Is it so much to ask
that I not always come into my room
to other people’s coffee cups on my nightstand
and other people’s clothes on my bed?

I still think lowering your expectations
is just living a miserable life and being in denial about it.
But maybe it could help in this case?
Because I’ve taped the notes to the coffeemaker,
and I’ve sent out the Facebook messages about the desk and the mail,
and I’ve organized the house meetings about the violated groceries
(not just for me but for everyone),
and I’ve cleaned the entire bathroom multiple times,
and I’ve firmly moved the coffee cups off my nightstand,
and Lord knows I’ve whined enough about all the things I’ve lost
since moving in here.
But nothing seems to be helping.

It kind of feels like I’m living here:

P.S. Oh yeah, and this:

Until I get my coffee (as Kelly Oxford would say).

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I wish…

27 Oct

I wish I didn’t have to go to school and work tomorrow.
I wish I didn’t also have to work Friday and Saturday morning.
I wish I had a dishwasher.
I wish this semester was over. (It stinks.)
I wish I didn’t have to reformat everything when I go back and edit a post so I could fix the typos in my last one.
I wish the Internet in our house worked better.
I wish I felt like the three jobs I have could pay for more than the bare minimum of my bills plus some food.
I wish I had remembered to do laundry in the last few days.
I wish I was better at writing in my journal.
I wish I connected with people better.
(Either that or I wish there were more people around that I could connect with. I still haven’t figured out whose fault it is.)
I wish I knew what I wanted. I wish I knew myself better. I wish I could be better at this whole life thing.
I wish life was easier.

Wah wah wah.