I feel like if I’m going to write a post here, I should fill you all in with what’s been happening. I should tell you I had a good job, but the place closed down. I should tell you my dad has cancer, but he’s most likely going to be fine. I should tell you so many things, but the thing is, it’s my slack blog and I can put whatever I like, here. So I’m not going to tell you about any of those things. I’m just gonna whinge because I can. If they hadn’t told me adding a title was optional, this post would be called
REASONS I WANT TO LIVE ON MY OWN OR AT LEAST NOT WITH MY PARENTS
I hate going into the bathroom and finding every surface wet. No, it’s just water, the toilet isn’t in the bathroom. That doesn’t matter. Wet things feel awful, and if I can do normal bathroom things without making everything wet and potentially growing mutant mold which kills everyone, why can’t men!? I’m sorry boys, but it does tend to be men that leave everything drenched, I’m sure some women do, too!
I hate going into the kitchen and finding every cupboard and drawer wide open. Why!? Why can’t you shut the doors and drawers!? I understand pulling is more natural than pushing, but surely closing is not too much of a stretch? Surely you can shut the very things you opened? Surely? Please?
More kitchen: I hate going into the kitchen and finding dirty dishes on the counter where I want to prepare my food. The kitchen is where the sink is. The sink is where dirty dishes go. Simple! Do it! No? Why not? Why don’t you love your only child!?
Yet more kitchen: Please stop putting the sugar bowl in my basket of tea bags. I pour water on those and then drink the water. It’s really all I have at the moment. Please don’t put your filthy, dirty, yucky and also gross sugar bowl bottom on them. I don’t want to drink kitchen counter water.
EVEN MORER KITCHEN: I hate going into the kitchen and finding the wrappers from slices of processed cheese all over the counter, and then progressively on the floor, so as I may slip on them and die. The kitchen is where the bin is. Please use the bin. Also, processed cheese is not a meal or meal substitute. Please eat something with it.
Hallway: Why are there underpants here? This makes me feel uncomfortable when I need to, you know, walk on the carpet. Why oh why can’t I be bitten by a radioactive spider?
My bedroom: Why are you in here? Why is anyone but me in here!? Did I say you could come in? No! Please get out. If you come in here when I am not home, I will know. You have a smell (not mean, everyone does) and I know it anywhere because I know you. Even if it weren’t for your smell, you touch all my things, you move them around. Don’t do that. It is not ok.
My paintings: I came home to find a large, almost-finished painting of mine had been cut down to size, painted over and nailed over my bedroom window (I have a window between my bedroom and the area under the house. It is handy because I can put a light on in my bedroom and don’t need to put other lights on to get out from under the house). This painting had taken me years. It was mine but it was taken from me, cut up, painted white and used to cover up my connection to the rest of the house, also this was done from inside my bedroom. This is not ok, and I’m currently working on restoring this painting, but a small but important part of the board was discarded. Another painting was sat on. Another was given away without my knowledge; it was unfinished at the time.
Loud noises: I see noises, so sudden loud yelling is upsetting to me, more so than to other people. Stop it.
That’s not all, but I’m going to stop now.
Signed with love,
The Pretty Kitty.