Sunday, October 12, 2003

Project: Stop being lazy bitches 

Steve is a lazy bitch, but then again, so am I. At least, under certain circumstances. I have this incredible aversion to cleaning up other people's messes, or even cleaning up my own if they're mixed in with someone else's. Which means, if I'm living with a messy person, I'll just add to the mess.

Steve's attitude towards cleaning was neatly illustrated by a comment he made today -- "As long as it's not attracting insects, it's not dirty. And sometimes even if it is, it's okay."

End result -- we're living in a pigsty. The mess itself doesn't bother me a whole lot, I guess, although I do hate having a dirty kitchen. Problem is, we're living in an apartment, and I live in constant fear that the manager will come knocking at our door... wanting to check something, or some such. Plus it's a hateful apartment so we need maintenence over there frequently.

And if that's not enough, Steve's mother is coming to visit us in about a week. I don't know about him, but I certainly don't want her walking in and seeing dirty clothes strewn all over the living room floor.

The kitchen has definitely been the biggest problem. I like to cook, and for that matter, I'm damn good at it. But I absolutely hate cooking in a dirty kitchen. When the kitchen is normally dirty (as in, it's been cooked in once or twice), it takes approximately 20 minutes to clean up. Cooking takes, depending on how elaborate of a meal I'm making, anywhere from 45 minutes to 3 hours.

So, we struck a deal when Steve got here. If he cleaned the kitchen, I would cook. It seemed fair to me -- yeah, cleaning takes less time, but it's also a lot more unpleasant than cooking. It worked, for a while. Then gradually, his version of "cleaning the kitchen" turned into "wash the minimum necessary dishes to make what I'm cooking".

And then it evolved into, "Pretend the stove and dishes don't exist, and buy lots of frozen microwavable food."

I went on strike. No more cooking until the kitchen was clean, and I wasn't about to clean it myself. I'm not very good at this sort of thing though, so I caved in and cooked a few times, and the kitchen just got dirtier.

Last night, however, Steve did something completely out of character (shortly after we'd spent some time discussing how we should go about cleaning the place up and keeping it that way). He surprised me by cleaning the kitchen. Rather thoroughly, at that. Well, more thoroughly than you'd expect from a male teenager.

Today while he was at work, and I was once again unable to sleep, I finished up -- swept the floor, cleaned the stove (ugh) and sink, wiped down some surfaces he'd missed. I was going to mop, but he called me from work and asked me not to. He wants to mop the floor himself, as it's something he's never done. I wish he felt that way about cleaning the oven.

Anyway, aside from the floor, which he'll do (or had better) tomorrow... the kitchen is pristine. It's the only room in the apartment that isn't an awful mess. And dammit, that kitchen is going to stay clean now. I'm not sure how, but it will.

The worst thing about living with an eighteen year old who just moved out of his parents house five months ago, is trying to teach him responsibility. It's very hard to do. He doesn't pick up after himself, or clean up his messes. He frequently leaves food out that needs to be refrigerated. He doesn't wake up consistantly without help. His hygeine is godawful.

The question is, since his parents utterly failed to install any sense of responsibility in him, what do I do? I don't want to act like his mom... it irritates both of us. I'm certainly not going to go through life cleaning up after him and reminding him to shave... that's even worse.

I think, once we've gotten the apartment cleaned up via joint effort, we're going to have to sit down and have a meeting on all this. I tried to do this before he even arrived, but it wasn't met with much enthusiasm from him. Still, the chores have got to be divided up, and hopefully the need for that is a little clearer now.

It's too bad we can't afford $100/week for an illegal maid.

I Don't Like People 

A comment Kataine received on one of her recent entries:

unamused wrote:
"'Just proceed as if you had asked and gotten a positive response. You don't need to ask permission before you start removing her clothes, groping and fumbling, or whatever it is you start out with. And God knows she'll be a whole lot more cooperative if you don't bother to ask.'

unwanted sex is referred to as rape."

The excellent thing about autism is that it correlates strongly with high intelligence. As does schizophrenia. Kataine and I figure our children will be about 75% likely to have at least one of the two, but they won't end up like unamused. Thank God for small favors.

In other news, I love Bugles. The snack food. Kataine says they taste like farts.

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