you know, my weekend started out pretty spiffily. work is going hella awesome lately & the rain finally let up friday afternoon. no committments, no plans, no overtime, no obligations all weekend. a whole two days of relaxful awesomeness lying ahead of me.
and all was well. leisurely walking back from the boy’s this afternoon, taking in the gorgeous weather and general awesomeness of the day, i thought that nothing could mar the spiffiness of my weekend…
and then i came home.
it’s like, every time i open the front door, it’s just gotten worse in here. just, so fucking disgustingly worse. seriously, i hate it. my apartment is like, officially, the most revolting place i know. i mean, there’s a reason i never cook or hardly ever eat at home anymore. it’s repulsive. the kitchen, the hallway, the bathroom. i only grudgingly go in the livingroom anymore, and that’s merely for family guy on sundays. but really, i need to re-attach the antennae to my minitv in the livingroom or ignore the family guy — who has time for tv anyway, because it is just god awful horrid in there. everywhere.
i don’t even know how it happens. i’m like, never fucking home anyway, but when i am, i’m usually wiped out. 12-14 hour days and then i come home to a natural disaster of epic proportions.
i suppose i should be at the very least grateful that the whole place doesn’t reek of cat urine anymore…or at least right now. but, i wouldn’t want to give the fat one any ideas.
i don’t even know what to do anymore, the trash situation is never under control. anytime i clear up stuff, more clutter appears, as if by magic. i’m actually too embarrassed to invite my friends over, because god damn…just, no. i’m going to have to do a major, epic overhaul before august to make it suitable for gravy to stay. pre-pi day some hardcore cleaning went down, and even after the party, it was ok. no major mess, no fuss. i thought maybe, just maybe…this time it would last. you know, longer than a day or two, anyway. i was so foolish and wrong. it didn’t. it’s gotten worse, i think. almost to the point where there’s no reason to clean, it’s futile, hopeless. there’s no reason to buy nice things really…they’ll just get ruined and filthy. it’s so god damned frustrating. i keep telling myself to ignore it, that it’s not that bad, it’ll get better.
yeah, right. i suppose i can try to make more of an effort during the week so it doesn’t all pile up. it’s just so irritating to have to devote a goodish portion of the weekend to cleaning up filth. take a break from the drudgery of the workday by going home and doing housework.
::sigh::
i hate it here.
and now…laundry.
