I am flawed. But so are others. Also, I like to rant.

Psychoanalyzing yourself can be fun.  I think it’s impossible to not know the truth about why you are the way you are, and why you do the things you do.  Even if we don’t want to admit it, we have faults, nasty thoughts, bad feelings or habits we know we need to break and really have no excuse for.  I truly believe that it’s impossible to not recognize just how screwed up parts of me really are.

I feel like a work in progress.  And a question I’ve pondered is whether it’s always going to feel like this.  Will I ever feel “finished”?  I have always looked at most adults, and even certain peers, and thought that they had it together.  They know where they’ve been, where they’re going, and they know how to make themselves happy.  Is it true about anyone?  I like the idea that we are always growing and learning about ourselves, and the people and world around us.  But is there a time when the introspection as far as “what makes me happy?” stops and a level of satisfaction and contentedness is reached?  Is it normal to always want more, and to never be quite happy with what you have?  I really, really hope not.

M’s mom left over the weekend.  She’s not coming back until late February.  I would be lying if I said I’m not happy.  I feel like a weights been lifted.  But, the past couple days I was reminded that the house is in fact, not mine and M’s, but other people’s too.  His sister fought hard for a house with a basement.  She would not accept anything else.  And she doesn’t even pay more for it, but that’s another rant for another day.  M wanted to get a pool table and asked if he could put it downstairs in her “living room,” and she immediately said no because it’s “hers.”  Ok, fine.  But now, her “living room” has a crappy couch and a twin mattress that she took from the guest room bed and threw on the floor as another couch.  Basically, it looks like total crap.  While their mom was still here, Karla (sister) and her boyfriend spent most of their time downstairs in their basement.  They really only came up to eat M’s mom’s food, and the retreated.  So, naturally (or naively) I assumed that when his mom left, things would be wonderful, because now M and I would have the first and second floors pretty much to ourselves, and that Karla and her boyfriend would use the kitchen to cook and eat.

*sigh*…will I never learn?

They are now in our living room ALL. THE. TIME.  They sit on the couches, watch the big TV, mess up the kitchen, and leave food everywhere.  This is something that his mom did too, and it drives me insane.  They leave food on the stove in pots and pans overnight.  My mom was a neat freak.  Our entire house was immaculate when I was growing up.  She hates bugs, hates clutter, and hates when people leave food out.  I don’ t think I have a lot in common with my mom, and I am a bit messier than her, but I definitely inherited her distaste for bugs and a messy kitchen.  I HAAAAATE that they leave food out.  We have roaches in our kitchen.  Every night I kill at least one.  It’s disgusting.  And when I say something, or wrap the food and try to put it in the fridge, I’m ignored, or the food is put right back out.  It’s annoying.

I’ve learned that it’s the little tiny things that get on your nerves and slowly drive you insane when you’re living with someone.  Example:  I reorganized every cabinet in the kitchen so they look organized.  We have about a billion plates, so I put them in piles according to matching sets and sizes, and put them away.  I put the glasses all together in neat rows.  I put the pots with the pots, and the pans with the pans.  All anyone else would have to do it actually open their eyes and see what goes where and put it away accordingly.  I don’t think it’s difficult, but apparently it’s damn near impossible because every week, every cabinet is a complete mess.  The silverware tray has slots for forks, spoons and knives.  How hard is it to put each in the correct slot?  And yet every time I open the damn drawer forks are with knives and spoons are with forks and it drives me crazy.  Or, I have two sponges.  One for washing dishes, one for wiping down the counter.  Why do you need BOTH to wash dishes?  And not just plates, but greasy pots and pans so the sponge is ruined?  Perhaps I am a little anal retentive about these things.  But the fact is, I not only organize and clean everything, but I’m the one who bought all of these things, save a couple plates and some pots and pans.  Do you have any idea how annoying it is to watch someone who contributes absolutely nothing not only use your stuff like it’s theirs, but then just throw it into a cabinet after obviously knowing that it’s been organized.  It’s not too hard to tell when someone has cleaned something.  And the fridge…oh that damn fridge.  It’s already on the small side.  So I rearranged the shelves, and put everything in places that I thought made sense.  The drinks are all on the bottom, the eggs and wine and cheese drawer are in the middle, and butter and other miscellaneous things are on the top.  They take little bits of food and wrap it in tinfoil and just throw it anywhere.  They will take a lime, cut it in half, and put it down in front of all of the drinks.  So if you want milk, for example, you need to pick up the lime so it doesn’t fall on the floor.  Something so small, but so damn annoying.

Last night, after already being irritated and in a foul mood in general, I open the fridge to find a pot sitting in front of all of the drinks.  I sigh, then try to move it to the top shelf, and it’s bean soup filled completely to the brim, so it spills all over the fridge and floor.  It is so much to ask that you somehow warn people “btw, this pot is extremely full so be careful.”  Or if you know it’s that full, and that people will inevitably be thirsty and need to move it out of the way, why don’t you put it so that it’s already out of the way??  I don’t get it.

I know they’re not my family.  But so many things they do are just completely illogical or selfish.  Like, Karla, who has a bathroom in her had-to-have basement, CONSTANTLY uses the guest bathroom on the first floor.  She leaves hair stuff and UNDERWEAR on the counter on a daily basis.  What the hell??  I just don’t get it…

M tells me to be happy with what I have.  I’m all seriously?  All I have are headaches everywhere I turn.  And what kills me is that I cannot say anything.  They pay for the house too, so they have as much right to it as I do.  I have commented on the leaving food out and guest bathroom, but as far as them being upstairs?  Nothing I can really say.

This post went off into a random tangent for which I am sorry.  Gotta get to work!