Each day it gets harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning.
Last night, I got mad at Nick. I maybe can’t say mad…more like frustrated.
I work all day ….. and come home to a mess. Granted he rinses his dishes…and puts them on the counter…..right above the dishwasher. Recycles…go on the counter closest to the basement door instead of walking 3 more feet and opening a door to throw them. A big plastic jug, I took the screw cover off, put on the counter and put the jug NEXT to it. He put the lid back on and moved it further away from the basement door. (I did that one as a test. He failed)
I’m exhausted when I get home. Then I hear “I’m helping out as much as I can!”…no luv…..you are making more work for me. I don’t say this out loud but I feel guilt.
When we moved? I got yelled at SO many times to put the boxes where they were to STAY because he didn’t want to move them twice. So it’s OK to move things 3 times now?? *throws hands up in confusion*
I know it sounds petty but seriously……he wants me to do nothing but cuddle on the couch when I get home from work……..which I am more than willing to do….but AFTER I clean up his messes.
Which…..really? Should I have to clean up? He spent the morning in the garage yesterday. So he did have the energy to take care of these few things. The few things that would have saved me close to 45 minutes last night.
I’ll shut up now.