First: I fully realize that the following rant is entirely irrational.
The sick, inner workings of a hormonal mind:
AAAAAAAARRRRRRGH! I am a housewife! When TF did that happen?!! I don't want to be a housewife! I am sick and freaking tired of never ever catching up on the f*&%ing housework! Dishes, linnens, clothes, carpets, dust, stacks of crap everywhere. THROW IT ALL AWAY.
When I was young and single, I could clean the house - and I mean BABY PROOF CLEAN - in a couple of hours tops. I moved every six months or so, so I threw all the crap away. Stupid, worthless momentos, dead plants, papers etc. But now....now I live with a pack rat. (Don't say you're not. That's pure denial on your part!!!) Now I live with someone who can actually stack s*&t where the laws of physics say s*&t can't be stacked. And WHY don't you see it???? WHY do you not care that you live in this mess?? AAAAaaaaa! It reeks havock on any hope of creative force entering my brain. There is always something to be done. Something to be cleaned.
When I am lying on my deathbed and someone asks "Do you have any regrets?" Oh buddy, am I gonna go off then!!! I regret that I didn't stop the freaking obsessive-compulsive collecting. I regret that I lived in it. I regret that I ever ever wasted my time trying to clean it or to clean around it. I regret that it made me this f(*king nutso. I regret a LOT. YES I DO.
(and the Buddhist Monk says "abolish material possessions". If I only could.
Chit. Time's up. I could have gone on like this for weeks.
Well, one week I suppose. It's probably just PMS.
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