Where is the maid I ordered??

This weekend has been a complete and utter wash out. Weatherwise and home project/cleaning wise. I hate my life sometimes. If I can't get out and walk and enjoy myself, I try and clean stuff up in the house and it gets immediately uncleaned by this pack of ravenous wolves that live with me.

My freaking kids are total pigs who can't find the gigantic silver trash barrel that sits in the middle of our damn kitchen, so they just leave crap all over the damn place (oh, so help me God I'm killing the person who left a used band-aid on the living room floor this morning). Candy wrappers, bottle tops, band-aid wrappers, shredded pieces of homework that they don't need any more. All kinds of shit, and it's all over the living room.

And my husband is playing Gran Turismo 4 instead of lifting one of those hands off the controller to help do laundry or dishes or put shit away that has been sitting out for months.

You might just say, I'm in a mood.

I just screamed at Geoff because he raided the refrigerator, yet again, and dropped something that exploded all over the floor. I yelled at him not because something broke, but because he didn't ASK if he could take food from the fridge. Geoff is like a literal walking, talking pack of locusts. I buy food. It is gone in 2 days. A bottle of soda. 1 hour. A package of Oreos. 10 minutes. I'm living in ancient Egypt and I'm a Pharaoh and don't know why this plague of crop-munching fiends have invaded my kingdom. On top of that, he eats everything and then is PISSED at me when he doesn't have snack for school.

Well DUH little man. It's all in your belly. You ate the week's allotment of snack food in less than 36 hours, so no -- you get nothing for snack on Monday. Have a moldy grape, dude. That's all I got. And NO. I'm not going to the store to buy more for you. Live with your decisions. You ate it all at once instead of spreading it out over the week. Suck. It. Up.

Every. Damn. Day. He takes food without asking. He takes milk out of the fridge and makes chocolate milk, and spills a friggin half gallon of it all over the counter and walks the hell away. No wiping, no effort to clean. He just leaves it there for the fucking MAID to clean up.

Oh. Only there IS no maid in this house. Which means it falls on me.

And should I ignore it... should I pretend I do not see the 30 metric tons of milk spilled all over the counter, no one ELSE is going to clean it up. My daughter and my husband with their own two eyes will ignore, and with their own two feet will walk past.

I'd make some comment about shooting someone but I'm afraid it'll be taken literally and I'll get arrested (cough). So to summarize:

• Yes. I am pissed off.
• Yes. I am angry.
• No. I will not kill anyone nor do I actually desire to kill anyone.
• No, I do not hate my kids for real... I just wish someone around here other than me will clean some shit up. That's all.
  

Meh!