10/10/02
The Apple Juice Incident
Remember that apple juice (mine) that she spilled in the fridge a few weeks ago? Remember how I asked about it (nicely) a few days ago, when it started changing colors? Remember how she said she'd clean it up? Well, she didn't. So I asked about it again yesterday (still nicely) and she threw a hissy fit. She grabbed her washcloth and pushed me out of the way. When I said, "What??" she growled, "I'm cleaning up the fucking mess!" I refrained from commenting that a more appropriate statement would have been, "I'm cleaning up MY fucking mess," or, with hindsight, "I'm cleaning up a small, visible part of my fucking mess in order to validate this ridiculous scene I'm making, and as for the rest, you will either have to do it yourself or get a new roommate." But for some reason, she left that part out.
So I cleaned it up myself when I got back from Maya Angelou, while indulging in a series of petty thoughts, none of which are appropriate to be posted here, and considered telling her that if I have to clean up any more of her messes, she can get her OWN fridge.
I also decided that from now on, I will make no attempt to remove the beach from the entryway, as it does not bother ME.
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