look at me

This weekend I did a lot of cleaning while Dawg worked at his computer. My BFF is coming to town in a few more weeks, but since I’m not home the next two weekends for much time and she comes the weekend after that, this is the weekend I had the most time to clean.

I washed the sink full of dishes.
I washed and filled the food and water bowls.
I cleaned the litter boxes.
I put away the clean laundry.
I cleaned the toilet.
I cleaned the tub.
I cleaned the scum off the entire shower wall with my toothbrush.
I cleaned the bathroom window sill.
I cleaned the sink.
I swept the bathroom floor.
I cleaned dishes again.
I cleaned up one bag of garbage off the floor and surfaces of the living room.
I swept the living room floor.

I made dinner on Saturday and breakfast on Sunday.

I ate cereal for Sunday dessert, cereal that I had hoped to eat for a webisode, but Dawg is working on projects with deadlines and kept not having time for this. I really wanted to eat it, and the person who sent it to us gave me permission to … just eat it, without filming. So, I did. And then Dawg gave me the scowl eyes and asked me why I did this. And I told him I had permission to eat it, and when was he going to have time to sit down and eat this cereal on film with me anyway.

And then I did more dishes. And then Dawg scolded me about how I was washing the bacon dish from breakfast with the bacon grease still in it. And I eventually yelled at him that I did not actually appreciate being told how to clean my home when I am the only one cleaning it.

In evaluating my reaction to the cereal consumption and bacon grease, I realized that I feel resentment that I do my best to give him a good working environment (I stay quiet around him as much as possible and go do projects in other parts of the apartment as I can, neither of which he asks me to do, I just do them) and then when I receive any criticism for all the hard work I did, without receiving praise for all the hard work I did do, I feel mad.

Otherwise, this weekend was really spectacular in comparison to last weekend. I even had happy dreams. I’ve even had some quality time that I thoroughly enjoyed with this man who works so hard and I respect so much and try to please because he deserves to be pleased and I enjoy doing it.

Just, ya know, look at my good stuff too if you’re gonna look at my bad. And, if he only knew how many times I have intentionally (and I know full well not to) dumped bacon grease down that fucking drain… ;)

4 thoughts on “look at me

  1. That’s something my husband is way better at than I am. I have to make a conscious effort to thank him for all the things he does, and it just seems to come naturally to him.