Thursday's Child ... has far to go ... (0nm10wn2feet) wrote,
Thursday's Child ... has far to go ...

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Ok, now it's official ...

So much for hoping for a "better, brighter" day on Wednesday.  My St. Paddy's Day (which, considering I'm HALF Irish used to be my fave holiday) sucked ass... just completely sucked ass.  First thing in the morning, I gouged a chunk out of my little toe on the dog crate in the kitchen and started bleeding all over the floor.  Then Jess, in her haste to get out the door, broke my Longaberger pepper shaker... the damn salt & pepper set costs over $40.00 to replace now.  Then, what I thought was the capper on a completely miserable day... I came home and found my kitchen infested with ants that were crawling through the wall.

I really hate bugs.  I hate bugs in my house.  I may have a generally dirty, messy house, but I DON'T have BUGS.  Needless to say, I wigged out.  Right off the deep end.  I hung a sign on the door to the kitchen letting the "basement dweller" that the kitchen was closed until further notice, and proceeded to scrub the whole thing on my hands and knees.  Actually, not just 'scrub,' but SCRUB... as in getting the grout between the tiles the same color as the tile... as in basically taking a layer of grout off just SCRUBBING.  For those who know my house, my kitchen is not a small space.  It's a nice, wide, open space with LOTS of tile and GROUT.  First I killed all the ants, then I scrubbed every square inch of that floor - not once - but twice.

In the course of my cleaning frenzy, Will came upstairs - having finally awakened around 3:00 PM in the afternoon.  After finding out why the kitchen was closed he told Steven that he had seen ants in his bathroom (directly beneath my kitchen) for DAYS, but that they hadn't gotten "bad" until a couple days before.  DAYS????  BUGS FOR DAYS??????  My mind still boggles at the thought.  He had bugs in his bathroom, which NO ONE ELSE IN THIS HOUSE USES, for DAYS before thinking to mention it to ANYONE?????  WTF?

I screamed those very words in the general direction of the stairs... "BUGS FOR DAYS????"  I immediately called Mark at his office in Port Huron to see if he could come home as soon as possible.  I knew that, if I went down those steps, I would end up STRANGLING the little twerp!!!!!!!  I also knew that, if I sprayed the twerp's living space, he'd die of pesticide poisoning, because I would SATURATE every single surface to ensure that nothing resembling a BUG came out alive.  So I asked Mark to do it - especially since I didn't trust the dweeb to actually spray the right stuff in the right places anyway.

When I informed Will that Mark would be home to spray his living space, Will proceeded to ask what he should use to clean his bathroom.  I almost lost my cool over that... I have posted (via laminated SIGNS) helpful reminders all over the damn house, noting where things are kept and how to do things, and the dipshit who has LIVED here for FOUR FUCKING months can't even find the FUCKING cleaning supplies??  Maureen has never even LIVED here for any real length of time, but SHE knows where to find that stuff.  Even BRANDON knew where to find that stuff.  I go so far as to post it on the door of the cupboard the dip digs through regularly, yet he still can't find the stuff???  THAT threw me into a tailspin.

But that wasn't even the BEST part yet.  After I'd spent a couple hours scrubbing the floor, the doofus comes to the doorway and mumbles something about a wastebasket that Nik left next to the bed that was full of sticky stuff.  He said he didn't really want to throw the basket out (OMG, WTF?  Since when do people throw stuff away instead of CLEAN it?), but he put some SNOW in it and the snow didn't seem to be breaking up the icky stuff.  SNOW?????  He put SNOW in it???  I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around that one.  Who, in their right mind, would think that SNOW was a great cleaning solution?????  And what the hell was wrong with putting WATER in it, even if he couldn't find the FUCKING SOAP?  All I can think is that he somehow had a problem connecting the hose he tripped over on his way into the house EVERY DAY with the fact that there was a FAUCET outside that the hose was connected to.  Who would've thought there'd actually be a FAUCET at the end of the hose, right?  And he completely forgot that he had a hand-held shower head in HIS bathroom?  AND he forgot all about that LAUNDRY TUB complete with faucet next to the washing machine he used regularly??

I started to go off and stopped myself.  I told him, as calmly as I could, that he should just LEAVE IT in the garage but NOT where the dog could get at it.  I did not say another word directly to him the rest of the night.  I could not even look at him without wanting to STRANGLE him.  The next morning, I looked at the mail I'd collected from the box the day before... it seems the dweeb is now having his MAIL sent here.  Excuse me, he was only supposed to be here a few weeks - a MONTH at the most - and NOW HE'S CHANGED HIS ADDRESS??????  "Oh god," I thought, "I'm fucked.  He'll never leave."

Rather than confront the kid, I just left his mail stuck in one of his boots (where I was SURE he'd find it) along with a note that spelled out in the SIMPLEST of terms how to go about hooking up a phone base and handset for his use downstairs, so I wouldn't have to go on a telephone hunt to answer the freaking phone.  I then put a note on the wastebasket (which I had helpfully filled with soapy water) explaining in the SIMPLEST of terms how "WE" clean things.  I guess I pissed him off, cuz he went straight to his room, packed up some stuff and stalked out, telling Steven he was leaving for the weekend, and would be looking for another place to live, and Steven could "tell HER that."  So, it's official... I am now officially the BITCH of the western world to every single kid I've ever tried to help.  Yippie Skippy!

I almost felt bad about treating him like the moron he's been acting like, until today.  I hadn't seen Minkie for a while, and figured that Will must have let him out while he was shuffling his stuff in and out.  Will does have a nasty tendency to leave the damn door open way too long.  Right around 4:30 this afternoon, Steven went downstairs to play a video game and heard meowing... the stupid shit had locked the damn cat in his bedroom when he left.  I don't even want to think about what Minkie might have done in there during the almost 24 hours he was trapped.  I am not even going to open the door... I'm going to let Will handle it because I don't view it as my mess OR my fault.  And may god help that poor fairy if he has the balls to even say ANYTHING to me about it.  I WILL FUCKING KILL HIM.  I will rip his head off and shove it where it seems to belong.  I will... calm down while I can and hope my hives go away, that's what I'll do.  I have at least another 24 hours of relative peace, calm and serenity before that dumbass can fuck anything else up around here... I think I'll make the most of it.  But at least there is NO doubt whatsoever about how ALL of the people I've tried to help feel about me.  Those that won't say it outright most likely think it to themselves, agree with the people who DO say it, or just smile and go along with it.  As I'm sure most of them think, it certainly is what I deserve, wouldn't you agree?

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