- I expect some kind of accolade for loading the dishwasher. I have a friend who does not allow dirty dishes to sit in her kitchen sink. She is so on top of the dishes that the minute her dishwasher stops, she unloads it and puts things away, thereby presenting a situation in which the dishwasher is empty and she can put dirty dishes IN it AS they get dirty. My method, as you may have guessed, involves stacking rinsed-but-still-dirty dishes in the sink while I "unload" the dishwasher with the "I'll take it out of there when I need to use it" process. If this is also your method, then you know that by the time you get around to actually loading the stupid dishwasher again, it's a chore. You have to unload the last few things and then reload the pile of other things, some of which won't fit, so you have to wash them by hand. I complete this task and say things like, "Ta-Dah! Clean sinks!" to an empty room, as if every other person on Earth is as lazy as I am, but I alone have overcome it.
- This would be a good time to mention that I expect joy and happiness to be the result of most of the things I do around the house, no matter how mundane. If I wash the floors, though...that's some "Worshippers please park in the over-flow lot," shit.
- Being a woman living alone has not, in any way, stopped me from thinking that the man should be taking out the trash. The trash piles up and I think, "Why hasn't he taken out the trash yet? What the fuck?" Then I remember the last human male who lived in the same house as me has been dead for almost four years. I think about getting a boyfriend, strictly for the purposes of having someone to take out the trash.
- I stand firm in the belief that the dead guy would have laughed at that last bullet point, and, selfishly, the main thing I miss about him is the fact that he thought I was funny. I can hear him laughing. He's probably laughing because I have to take out my own trash.
- I feel good about myself because my fantasy trash-removing boy-toy doesn't need to buy me things to make me happy, just...you know. I'm a modern woman with my own money, damn-it! Why is this garbage still sitting here?
- If somebody doesn't think my jokes are funny, I assume there is a massive cultural barrier or maybe they are just deeply insecure. Could be both. It's probably both.
- I play Competitive Twitter. If I told you what that was, I would immediately lose Competitive Twitter.
- I also play Competitive Duo Lingo. That's when you act like, "Hey, no big deal, just brushing up on my Greek/Russian/French/German/Spanish..." but in truth you're compulsively powering through lessons to get more points than your followers/friends. Then you friends say, "wow, you've really come a long way in (Insert Language Here)," and you chuckle, knowing you might be able, one day, to buy an apple from a Frenchman who was dropped on his head as a child and therefore has limited verbal abilities. You probably won't be comfortable enough to come up with sexy, naughty things to say in the heat of the moment with a fully functional (ahem) Frenchman in bed, but you'll beat your friends at Duo Lingo and I think we can all agree that's the real joy of language learning software.
- The other kind of Competitive Duo Lingo is when you tell every-fucking-body that you're using Duo Lingo and act like they're idiots if they're not. I'm always winning at that, because I'm horrible. I'm horrible enough that I wish "Je suis une horrible personne" was more impressive-looking and complicated, for the purposes of this blog so I could seamlessly weave another Duo Lingo reference into this post, to make it look like it's so hard, but so rewarding.
Ultimately, this list could on and on. The one non-horrible thing I'll do here tonight is end it. You're welcome. Don't say I never did anything nice...although, if you do say that, I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding someone to believe you.