Posts Tagged ‘domestic servitude’

A Day In The Life…Or Something

September 28th, 2016 Comments off

Caught! Little fucker.

Caught! Little fucker.

Today, we moved the litter box upstairs. And by we, I mean me.

Yes, litter box, singular. I realize the general rule is one cat, one box, but M doesn’t want two boxes. Is adamant that we not have two boxes. So we’ve got one.

We moved it for everyone’s comfort. We originally put it in the bathroom because why not, right? There was room, and we poop in the bathroom so why shouldn’t the cats poop in the bathroom? Plus, with the litter box in the bathroom, I’m forced to clean it every day because it’s right there in our faces, and who wants to take a bath with a stinky litter box? Not me, that’s for sure.

I mean, not that I go more than one day without cleaning it. That’s just gross. And Bash insists on stepping in the poop and then walking it all over the house, so even if I wanted to go more than one day without cleaning it, I can’t, because that little turd will spread his turd love everywhere.

I don’t want your turd love, kitty. Read more…

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There’s a problem with the chore calendar.

September 8th, 2016 Comments off

His new favorite spot.

His new favorite spot.

It’s no secret that I hate doing dishes. I mean, I’ve been washing dishes by hand since I moved out of my parents’ house at 17. Washing mound upon mound of dirty dishes by hand, spending (sometimes) all of my free time up to my elbows in dirty water is fucking depressing. If I can get away with it, I’ll leave dishes in the sink for days, and feel wholly justified…and a little disgusted with myself. But justified, nonetheless.

At some point, shortly after my ex and I moved to New York, we bought a used portable dishwasher, but it never worked right, so I never used it. Instead, I did dishes for four toddlers, an overgrown toddler, and myself by hand after every single meal (or at the end of the day depending on what was going on). And then, when I was in rehab, my “friends” sold my dishwasher and kept the money. I haven’t had the money, or the inclination, to buy a dishwasher since, and low income housing doesn’t generally have neato appliances like dishwashers, so I’ve been doing dishes by hand for 19 years.

It still throws me off when I realize I can say I’ve been doing anything for more than 10 years. Read more…

Categories: Rayne Tags:

Dresser Segregation – Yes, really.

November 25th, 2013 3 comments

So this one day, I was putting our clothes away, and somehow, we got to discussing how I was putting them away, which led to me explaining to Master why I put the clothes away the way that I do. Then I lamented the fact that there was an uneven number of drawers, and asked if he minded if I put our socks in the same drawer. He said, “You don’t have to keep our clothes segregated. I think I know what’s yours and what’s mine.” And I just kinda laughed him off.

Is this not a thing, this segregation of one’s things? Most couples I know each have their own dressers, and the closet is divided right down the middle.

Unless one of them has a shoe fetish. Shoe fetishists never can seem to keep their shoes on their own side…because there are just too many of them. Shoe fetishists rarely date other shoe fetishists, and I think this is why.

Since I’ve lived with Master, I’ve never had my own dresser. We had two dressers, once, but one was filled with toys, so we crammed the rest of our clothes in the closet. When we moved into a one bedroom to save money, we put the toys in our footlocker, and figured out a way to fit all of our clothing in the more practical of the two (a tall, narrow chest of drawers with finger lips instead of handles that would stick out, hogging up precious walking space), since our closets would have to store the things we couldn’t display. We gave the other one to a new couple with babies. There just wasn’t room in the apartment for it. Read more…