To the victor go the spoils

Or at least, to the vacuumer goes the spare change.












Found in the couch last weekend.

Money found under the couch cushions or in the washer or dryer is mine. All MINE. Of course, that would be because I’m just about the only person who ever finds money in those places because I am the person who is most likely to be cleaning under the cushions or doing the laundry.

Is it just me or does anyone else get seriously irritated at the fact that if another family member is doing any cleaning up around the house they’re “helping” you? Who assigned the entire house as my personal job anyway? I certainly didn’t sign up for that. Ever.

Oh sure, I appreciate when a kid asks “Is there anything I can do to help you?” But why is it “helping”? Why don’t they ever say “I’m going to vacuum unless you think I should start with something else.” Why don’t they just look around and see that the place needs to be swept/vacuumed/dusted? Or that the bathroom needs swabbing out? Or the laundry done? And just do it.

Certainly I’m not so much more brilliant than every other person in my family that only I can see when cleaning needs to happen. And I can’t really envision a circumstance where someone else doing any housework would irritate me, so it’s not like they actually need my permission to clean or anything. The housework fairy isn’t going to do it and I’m fairly certain that everyone in my house knows that.

Which is why it’s so frustrating to, for instance, find a dirty dish in the sink. When a dirty dish is in the sink it’s clear that SOMEONE feels it’s not his or her job to clean up after him/herself. The most oft-used excuse? “The dishwasher is clean.” Um, okay. Did someone forbid you from emptying it? Nope. Must be because it’s MY JOB to empty it.

Can you tell the dust in my living room is thick enough to write in this morning?

I’ll get over it.