Truth Tuesdays: I Clean

I like the space I'm in to be clean. So what do I do? I clean it. I clean it.
[Not because I'm the one who's home all day, that's not why it's always me cleaning, but for now let's just pretend that, that's the reason.]
I don't mind cleaning all too much [Unless I'm cleaning something that someone else could have, should have cleaned, then I get a little hissy]. But what I do mind is when Momma G asks me if I'm manic because I'm cleaning.
[So now not wanting to live in nastiness is a symptom of bipolar disorder? Really?]
Or the last time I asked her if she could pick up some cleaning supplies on her way home from work [Walgreen's is across the street from the train station, and once she's home she'll get bitchy about having to leave again] and she kinda got a bit of an attitude.
I asked her why she doesn't help out and all she said was because she works all day. Wow.
So from now on, she'll transfer money to my bank account and I'll pick the stuff up from Duane Reade on my way home from karate on the weekends and I'll play the underpaid Mexican housemaid role, who can't complain because the boss threatens them with deportation.

But at least it's been keeping me busy, as Michael said, and not letting me think or dwell on other things.

[Like avenues and/or top shelf liquor and one tequila two tequila three tequila floor.[inside joke, love you Liz!]]