I wonder what's worse? Holding in your anger until you think you might explode, or exploding in anger to superiors and parents? Both of them are pretty bad...but the first one seems less dangerous.
I mean, it really began when I finished my online homework and went downstairs, my abdomen throbbing with pressure and pain. I fell asleep like that; holding my stomach as though I could clench my internal organs and massage them back to normal.
As my title explains, I'm sure no one likes to just be woken up, unless it's a necessary procession to get to school. Well, I was awoken by none other than my brother Tyler, who by this time in my life, I've grown to be very sick of. It's harsh to say, but it's a true fact. I've dealt with him since the moment he was born. That's fourteen years and a half.
Anyway, I was awoken for dinner, and to also do dishes after dinner.
I've illustrated my loathing for dishes in many different blog posts, but I think this time has got to be one of those worse times. Mainly because I was rudely awaken.
Whenever I'm angry, I have this raw attitude that I almost never feel or display, but when I do feel them, my thoughts usually go like this:
If you don't want to rinse off these f***ing dishes, then I don't want to wash these f***ing dishes.
Well if you want to use unnecessary bowls while you cook, that's fine, I just won't wash them.
But in the end, I always obediently carry out the full task, despite how I feel. I get a sense of accomplishment when I finish a big task like the chore, or when I complete a fairly laborious project. So I always do my best, no matter what.
I have to scrub off dried food such as cereal, raw meat juice, yogurt, sour cream, cheese, cooked on bread, and dried spaghetti sauce with hot water. This first step takes a good 3/4 of my hot water. I do this first because I have this extreme pet peeve. If the soapy water is tainted even a tiny bit, it won't do and I'll freak out. So there. Then I have to fill up the sink, using the rest of my hot water. Now I'm down to lukewarm water and the washing, which I usually take in categories of dishes. So glasses first, bowls, plates, miscellaneous, big pots and pans, then the most laborious of all; utensils.
Drying kills me. I hate drying the dishes and putting them away. I don't know why, but I just do. I suspect it might be the transition from wet hands to dry, weird hands while I work with the dishes.
Lastly, I get to scrub furiously at the counters for the dried milk, cereal, raw meat juice, yogurt, sour cream, cheese, bread crumbs, and dried spaghetti sauce. Sweeping comes next, which is my stress reliever at the end. It's more relaxing than you think. SOO much easier. It's like heaven after what I had to do. It's fun too!
It doesn't help when your father cooks that night and uses a huge popcorn bowl to hold the spaghetti when the pan could have held it, and when he uses a glass mixing bowl to hold the spaghetti sauce when the pan could have held it, and when he splatters sauce all over the stove and counter, and when he uses a bowl to hold the ground turkey after it's been cooked when he could have used the plate he cooked it on to hold it. You know, simple things like that would make me a happier camper than my dark, angry attitude I always obtain when I do the dishes.
It's also difficult when you finish the dishes, and the kitchen is looking spotless, and five minutes later your brother comes in to use a cup, or your father comes in to make his ten o' clock snack and gets yogurt all over the counter and sink and uses fifty dishes to do it.
That's when I want to shoot myself.
It's during those times when I begin to get a painful knot in my neck. It must be from stress, I'm sure, but I've figured out why. Basically, I try to do my best yet do it quickly, so I end up rushing myself and feeling stressed out because I have so many other things I have to do to finish the task. Same thing goes for work, since there's so much to do at work and so little time to get it done in. It's not necessarily the overall day for me. Just the tasks. I've probably had quite a few knots in my neck this past month. If I ever get a massage, it's going to be one painful motherf***er.
But, I should be thankful. Working at a food shop grants me the ability to avoid doing dishes on the days that I work, thus eliminating my normal chore amount from "Normal" to "Below normal".
I still hate the chore, though.
I've decided that when I become the mother of my own household, and even when I'm living with a boyfriend or whatever, I'm going to make the rule that if you don't rinse off your plate and stack them neatly in categorized piles, YOU'RE doing them. Not me. It's going to be a habit engraved into their minds. Their cooking habits will be clean and precise as well, I'll make sure of it. They'll clean as they cook, not let the kitchen explode in their wake and not clean it up.
And.obviously I'm going to buy a nice dishwasher. None of this Maytag shit that these rental houses have. THAT is ridiculous.
P.S. It's hard to have a happy face while doing the dishes, so whenever my dad asks me "Oh Mindy, what's wrong?" I have the hardest time in refraining from yelling. I try my hardest to calmly say, "You won't like what I have to say, so I'd rather not be disturbed." But I might end up yelling, so if I don't post for at least a month, you should worry.