cabbitzilla | (no subject)

I resent being pushed to extremes by another's laziness.
I resent being told that they're 'too tired', and then have them run off for the weekend to do a reenacting event.
I resent being forced to live in another's cluttersprawl.
I resent being forced to take an active role in the cleaning of the lazy person's bedroom just so that I can put order to the rest of the apartment.
I resent being relegated to the bottom of the totem pole, my living space demolished, because I'm not even <ON that person's priority list.
I resent the fact that nothing ever gets done unless I become a raging madwoman.
I resent being shoved into that raging state while grief is the dominant emotion in my heart.

Ten months. I can move on then, provided I can cover the expenses. Ten months. I can get away from someone so selfish as to care nothing for the inconvenience and hassle they cause by their negligence. Ten months. It's become my mantra.

The icon is the cover of Ronnie James Dio's Angry Machines album. It suits especially well.

And now if you'll excuse me, I need to go assemble the storage racking for (today, not-) Sleeping Booby, so that I can toss four more totes/boxes filled with her shit into her bedroom.

EDIT
DONE - Carve path to her closet.
DONE - Measurements, retrieve panels.
DONE - Assemble racking, move to her closet.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

*hugs tightly*

I often find the best way to clean someone elses junk is the match-and-a-firehose method.

Her room's adjacent to mine. Makes it a bit difficult. But don't think for a second that I didn't seriously ponder it ANYWAY.

*hugs*

You sound a lot like me when I was in limbo with my ex. We broke up while in mid-lease so there was this strange time of living together and we were just waiting for the lease to run out. I've lived with clutter-bugs before. It's not fun. :(