Ten Little Chances to be Free (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tenlittlebullets) wrote2009-10-12 07:13 pm
tenlittlebullets) wrote2009-10-12 07:13 pm
Well today has been utter shit.
(Warning: LiveJournal being used for its intended purpose, i.e. petty whining about everyday life.)
Host mother still conspiring to drive me batty. This morning while I, like your average not-a-morning person, was grumping and slowly waking up over a solitary breakfast, she poked her head into the kitchen, reproached me for not closing the door while I was "cooking" (um, toast and a cup of tea? okay) because it made the whole apartment smell, and disappeared before I had time to do more than go "WTF." This afternoon I came home after a day that had not improved much at all, and found a haphazard pile of still-damp, hopelessly-wrinkled laundry on my bed, with a note that said "Here's your laundry - clean, dry, and ready for you to put it away." WHAT THE HELL, LADY. You are not allowed to be a nosy anal neat-freak about MY ROOM and then, when you as my host mother are getting paid to do my laundry, crumple up my nice shirts into a wrinkled heap and leave a passive-aggressive note about how I never put anything away.
The rest of my day continued to be similarly shit, and I will not bore you with the details, except for the incident that appears to be symbolic of today:
Smith's building in Paris has a resident cat. As I was on my way to my (far too early in the morning) class, I passed her in the hallway, decided some Kitty Time was just what I needed after dealing with host mother's craziness, and sat down on the floor to pet her. I had just enough time to go "Awww, c'mere, kitty" before the door I was sitting in front of opened to reveal some lady in her office. She gave me a look of mingled "What the fuck are you doing here" and utter contempt, the cat ran into the office, and she slammed the door in my face.
In conclusion, today can fuck off and die. The only thing that could possibly rescue it at this point would be hot Frenchboy porn.
Host mother still conspiring to drive me batty. This morning while I, like your average not-a-morning person, was grumping and slowly waking up over a solitary breakfast, she poked her head into the kitchen, reproached me for not closing the door while I was "cooking" (um, toast and a cup of tea? okay) because it made the whole apartment smell, and disappeared before I had time to do more than go "WTF." This afternoon I came home after a day that had not improved much at all, and found a haphazard pile of still-damp, hopelessly-wrinkled laundry on my bed, with a note that said "Here's your laundry - clean, dry, and ready for you to put it away." WHAT THE HELL, LADY. You are not allowed to be a nosy anal neat-freak about MY ROOM and then, when you as my host mother are getting paid to do my laundry, crumple up my nice shirts into a wrinkled heap and leave a passive-aggressive note about how I never put anything away.
The rest of my day continued to be similarly shit, and I will not bore you with the details, except for the incident that appears to be symbolic of today:
Smith's building in Paris has a resident cat. As I was on my way to my (far too early in the morning) class, I passed her in the hallway, decided some Kitty Time was just what I needed after dealing with host mother's craziness, and sat down on the floor to pet her. I had just enough time to go "Awww, c'mere, kitty" before the door I was sitting in front of opened to reveal some lady in her office. She gave me a look of mingled "What the fuck are you doing here" and utter contempt, the cat ran into the office, and she slammed the door in my face.
In conclusion, today can fuck off and die. The only thing that could possibly rescue it at this point would be hot Frenchboy porn.
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I'm sorry to hear about the lousy day and harpy-host. Hope things look up tomorrow, or at least soon.
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Glad to see there's at least some prospect of an end in sight in a worst-case scenario, although January is a long way off if you're being niggled in this way - that sort of domestic needling gets very old, very fast!
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