Maid to Order

Last night BF begged me to help him clean his house for the impending Rents' arrival. I looked at the scattered mess of dirty dishes, papers, mail, clothes, shoes, DVDs, CDs, VCR tapes, magazines, tools and various "parts" to things and felt the immediate need to head for the hills. My eyes met those big brown puppy dog eyes and I resisted the urge to roll them and sigh.

"But, I don't know where any of your stuff goes. Or what I could and couldn't throw out."

"I'll tell you. Please Adult, I really need your help. And I helped you."

Ok, now let me clarify his statement of "I helped you." When I bought my house everyone I knew was asking me to have a party, so I did, but I needed help with certain BF-related things, like hanging a bathroom mirror, and shelves and a little plumbing. This is what he "helped" me do. When I declared the night before the party at 8pm that I would be pulling an all nighter to clean, he disappeared at 10pm, I was up til midnight and still didn't finish. Since he has bought his home, which I went with him to see almost all 70+ homes, I rounded up the people to help him move and moved him, I helped him pick out paint, a mattress, a bedroom set, and am currently on the lookout for a new dining-room set. I also actually painted with said paint, which I got him a discount on. I helped him do the initial cleaning, which we never finished because the painting needed to be done. (Totally backwards from my female point of view.) He also lived with me through all this. And, he continues to borrow my mower, weed wacker and leaf blower instead of buying the one that he saw that "...was a really great deal." I guess, what I'm getting at is, my debt has been paid. Ok, yes, as a GF I shouldn't be keeping track, but really, the give and take is becoming more take than give here people. However, knowing the hurt feelings and fight that would ensue if I did indeed head for the hills, I stayed, and cleaned. You have no idea how hard it was to do this. I mean really, people who clean for a living, how DO you know where to put stuff??? I know at one point I was throwing "clean" clothes down the basement stairs into the laundry, but they had been on the floor for so long, they certainly qualified as being dirty again. All the papers and mail, where was that to be placed?? The confusion was only made worse by the swirling tornado of dust that was created from disturbing the "order" of things.
Somehow, I managed to finish, sweaty and dirty, but you can now actually SEE the floor, instead of just trusting that it is there as you take a precarious step.

Say it ain't so......

So the other day while laying in bed taking a nap, BF snuggles up to me and says,

"I miss this. Us being together. I've felt like we've been so distant with each other the last few weeks."

My heart skipped a beat. Distant? First off, where does my BF get off using Female Speak? When have you EVER heard a Male say, without prompting from Dr. Ruth, that the woman in his life has been Distant??? Secondly, how did I, a woman who feels Sheryl Crow's song "Strong Enough" and Meredith Brooks' "Bitch" were written specifically about her, find a man who is actually, SENSITIVE??

"Distant? We've been together everyday." I said while racking my brain to see if I had been a horrid bitch without realizing it.

"I know, but it just seems like things have been, different. "

Dear lord, he was right, my heart sank. I HAD been feeling the need to pull away from him, sometimes he can be a tad suffocating. And here he was, telling me that he noticed and all I could do was make stupid Male comments.

"Really? You think so? We've been really busy."

"I know." He mumbled unconvinced.

I could tell by the tone of his voice that he knew I was deflecting the real issue. Me, putting distance between us, knowingly.

"You still love me, right?" he asked quietly.

OH! I've become the man in the relationship! That is so wrong, so very wrong. And a cold emotionally stunted man at that.
I practically dislocated a vertebrate because I tried to turn over too fast, I didn't quite make it since he was spooning me.

"OF COURSE I DO! What in the world made you ask that?"

"I was just checking." came the child like reply.

I don't deserve this man, I honestly don't think I do.

My crazy is going to break his sweet heart.

Why is it?

Would someone please explain to me why in all the wide world we are EXPECTED to celebrate the birth of co-workers? someone we would otherwise have nothing to do with? My group within the greater office is quite famous, and often looked down upon, for these Expressions of Celebration. We shell out for a card, granted spilt between 12 people is about 10 cents, but then for cake and for lunch. As any Mortgage Owner knows, money can be deathly tight, as is my case. And the added $12-15 dollars each month can be more than my overworked credit card and checking account can handle. Shame on me for wanting electricity instead of cake. You can call me cheap, you can call me a Grinch, but you'd be calling FOUL if you had to put up with the same crap that goes on in this group each time we celebrate two people having sex without a condom.

"Who's turn is it to buy the card?"

"Who's turn is it to "make" the cake?"

"Where are we going to lunch and who's turn is it to make the reservations?"

And that of course leads us to, "Well I MADE a cake when it was MY turn, she just went to the store."

"That cake, card, lunch was better than what I got."

"I drove to lunch LAST time, remember?"

None of these exchanges are said in all the sugary sweetness of those sugar cake decorations either, may I remind you.

When I made the ULTIMATE mistake of suggesting that we no longer celebrate these sexual faux pas that caused births, I was told in no uncertain terms that, "Not everyone has a family like yours or mine where they get together to celebrate birthdays."

So yes World, you are responsible for the happiness, mental and emotional well being of your Co-Workers, for whom you fill the void left by uncaring and cold family members.

You know, if their own family doesn't like them, why should I?