|He won't be satisfied until he has everything just so.|
I was having a bit of a moan about the tiresome lack of compliance the other inhabitants of this house have for my tiny requests that they help out by doing things like rinsing their dishes and putting them into the dishwasher and keeping doors closed so the cats won't nest in the clean laundry. Okay, maybe it was more than a bit of a moan. I'm fed up with their lack of respect for my time. Just because I'm here and able doesn't mean they shouldn't do the things they're capable of, the things they should do just because.
In other words, I'm not their fucking maid.
I'd probably have less anger about it if I were making record profits and getting government bailouts. I wouldn't even give two hoots if they moved their accounts to the smaller, friendlier, lived here all her life housefrau down the street as long as I can continue to use my sweet piles of cash to buy legislative baubles.
I slumped into a chair and drew my bowl of fat free plain Greek yogurt* toward me. Nature was on PBS. The subject? Animal housekeeping. As much as I wanted to be sour about it, I couldn't. The program is fascinating. Even if the honey badger doesn't make a cameo.