Well, one of my roommates is moving out tomorrow and gave me a fridge she had in her room. Rather than crowd up my room, I put it in the kitchen, with a note inside that clearly indicates it is for my use only. I am fed up to here (picture the line folks) with the messiness of the kitchen, and need some things of my own which no one else will be touching, so I ordered a cheap kettle for my room, some (again cheap) utensils and 16-piece place setting (plates, bowls, cups, lil plates) that I will keep in my cabinet in the kitchen. No more sharing stuff that isn’t properly washed. Someone took the rubbish out of the bin and has left the bag sitting in the kitchen (still there) for days, and I took the broiler/grill thingie out of the oven the other day, as it never gets washed (only one person uses it) and the kitchen gets stunk up with stale grease every time the oven goes on. Left that in the sink and it is now on the counter (hey, whatever—dude won’t get to use it again until it gets washed, and he uses it often). We range from 25-45 here, so cleaning up after oneself should not be so difficult. Granted, there are only one or two culprits (mostly one) who are piggish, but it’s enough to make me want to scream (er, which I can’t do with the lost voice).
modified to add: ooh, speak of the devil…someone just took out the trash. grody looking stain of something on the floor beneath it…think i may mop and disinfect the kitchen counters tomorrrow. yuck!
"Whereas the tourist generally hurries back home at the end of a few weeks or months, the traveler, belonging no more to one place than the next, moves slowly, over periods of years from one part of the earth to another." -Paul Bowles
1 comment:
Oh the joys of communal living!! Some things never change.
Commented by muddiah on January 22, 2006 at 7:14 pm
Ahem, someone posted this today on a board I’m on. Next time I’ll have to be witty, print it out and attach to the bag;)
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She’d scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .
The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fried and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That it finally touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
“OK, I’ll take the garbage out!”
But then, of course, it was too late. . .
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!
-Shel Silverstein, 1974
Commented by Suzer on January 23, 2006 at 4:00 pm
Funny! Admittedly, Im not much of a housekeeper. Need to get to a pay grade where I can hire a housekeeper - oh for the days!
Commented by kivadiva on January 24, 2006 at 9:19 pm
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