Fucking housework.

I drove home thinking "I have it all; I have everything in the world that everyone dreams of having and I should remember that always and be thankful for it."

Then I got home and the kitchen was still a wreck.  There was no meat thawing in the fridge to feed our guests who are on their way.  I yelled out "Hello?" and was greeted with silence.

Up the stairs, around the corner, down the hall - he's asleep.  "Hi!" I say, hoping he can't hear the tone of pissed off that tints my greeting.  He's startled - "Huh?!  What time is it?"  "6:30," I tell him as I leave the room.  I go back down to the kitchen and start unloading the dishwasher.  He joins me and says to go find something else to do, he'll take care of this.

"You said you'd take care of this while I was gone!" I want to yell.  "You said you'd do this. And you didn't; you slept instead and now I can do it myself because it needs to get done and at least if I do it myself it'll get done!"

I don't say any of that, of course, because I love him and don't want to hurl hateful mean angry words in his face.  Oh, but I do want to.  I want to remind him of how he said three days ago he'd take care of the kitchen and still it sits, because I've refused because he said he would.  But he hasn't, and I'm so mad I could spit nails over it.

Now he's doing that and I'm doing this; reminding myself that I have it all; everything everyone wants.  Okay, so I had to leave the room and smoke a bowl and calm the fuck down, but still.

Relationships are hard.  With anyone; your neighbor, your friends, your partner.  And I don't mean to imply that I'm somehow perfect or that I always do everything he asks of me without complaint or without being asked a second time, because that absolutely is not the case.

Gah.

Even in the Promised Land, there are still fights over who has to do the dishes.