I was going to talk just about my productive day, but you know how it goes.

I have had a seriously productive weekend. Not only did I do all that house-decorating shit yesterday, but today I completed my LIT essay (from scratch), did laundry, fixed my broken desk (which is a story all its own), cleaned out my car, cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom and learned how to pick a padlock. Well, I've always wanted to learn! And now I know how to. I'm pretty proud of myself.

So the desk thing is a point of irritation. I bought this desk off craigslist for über cheap. It's solid wood and good craftsmanship. I mean, it's got a couple of dings and what-not but it's sturdy and looks good and serves its purpose. I did something stupid while moving it, though, and broke off two of the legs. It was totally my fault. I won't even admit to what happened because it was SERIOUSLY dumb and to this day I still can't believe I even tried it. I'll give you a hint, though: desks aren't meant to roll. Anyway, that's what I get for trying to move the desk myself.

So, I broke the legs off this desk and I was so disappointed because it was such a bargain and I really liked it and wahhhhhhhh, I want my mommy, etc. I thought maybe I could get Brent to fix it. He's still living here for now and I thought, he's got a penis, surely he knows how to fix broken things. I bought some metal braces and some screws, wondering the whole time how this would work. I mean, like, I don't own a drill. Okay? I have a small toolset from Ikea that my dad bought me when I moved out, and its QUITE useful, but I don't own any power-tools. Brent said he would do it. This was about two weeks ago. You can guess where this is going. It didn't happen. I asked him again yesterday but he said he was too hungover to do it.

He's supposed to be out of here by the 22nd, so I'm thinking this shit's not going to get done. I break out the tools and work on it. I start by hammering a nail just barely into the wood where I want the screw to go. I remove the nail and now have a starting point for the screw. I got all four braces onto the desk in appropriate places as to keep the legs attached. I want to point out here that each brace has 6 screws, so that's a total of 24 fucking screws. It was a monumental achievement, believe me. Three-fourths of the way through the process, Brent wakes up and walking past notices what I'm doing. He actually asked if I needed any help. No, motherfucker, I needed help two weeks ago. I needed help yesterday. I don't need any goddamn help now. I was almost fucking done anyway.

The bathroom, too. I asked him to clean the fucking bathroom. Do you know what he did? No? Well, neither do I. It looked exactly the same when he was done as it did when he started, so I have no fucking clue what he did. Me? I scoured and scrubbed the tub, tile, toilet and sink. I used a broom and a mop on the floor. I just now realised I forgot to clean the mirror and I'm irritated just thinking about it. I moved all the shit off the counter and the back of the toilet and cleaned that. I sprayed everything down with bleach water when I was done. The bathroom is now CLEAN.

I have done all the cleaning pretty much since we moved in together. So, if he's wondering why I'm not all butthurt and heartbroken that our relationship didn't go anywhere, maybe it's the fact that I was putting in a larger percentage than he was. It wasn't just the cleaning, mind you, but that fucking boy has to have his hand held to get anything done. Oh, you're swimming up to your eyeballs in credit card debt, so you just quit making payments? I'll call Chase and talk to them for you (they put him on a VERY reasonable payment plan). You can't find a job (you're not looking, I know this), so I will help you find a job by searching craigslist and making your ass get up on a Tuesday morning to pick up, fill out, and turn in applications (he got a job the FOLLOWING DAY). The entire time we've lived here I've done all the cleaning. I mean sure, he might load and unload the dishwasher, take out the trash, and I insisted that we take turns with the litterbox (seeing as how we both own a cat) -- but the deep cleaning? The vacuuming, sweeping, scrubbing the stove and kitchen sink, wiping down counters, scrubbing toilets, cleaning the tub? I did it. All of it. Every time.

And so eventually I just quit doing that shit because fuck it, you know? I mean, the man didn't just not clean, but he's a total slob, too. I would spend an hour cleaning the damn kitchen and he would destroy it in one meal. Look, LOOK. If you spill shit on the stove while you're cooking, wipe it off right then and there. It's so easy you could probably just use a plain ole paper towel to do it. But nooo, no, you have to fucking let this shit pile up until it's months old and then I have to break out the Spray'n'Shine, scrubby pad and elbow grease. So it was like, why bother? So I quit doing it and things got even worse and worse. Now that he's got 2-3 days being here I figure I can start cleaning for real and get shit reasonable for when I start showing the apartment to potential roommates.

Okay. So I got a bit off the mark. Sorry about that. I haven't really vented about all this yet. I have a laundry list of problems with my ex and while I wasn't too upset about us breaking up I'm just now sort of realising that I might actually be happy about it. I actually feel free. The things I've done that I didn't want to do and the things I didn't do that I wanted to, the way I regarded his feelings and his plans every time before my own (which is my fault, it's not like he made me, but still), I am free from that. I can do whatever I want whenever I want with whoever I want and not have to consider anyone else in any way, shape, or form. I can decorate my apartment and not wonder about whether it'll fit his tastes. I can clean and not be concerned that he'll destroy it. In a way, I'm not just happy, I'm relieved.

The whole point of this post, actually, was that I felt empowered today. I felt like "RAWR", especially after fixing that desk. Learning how to pick a lock was pretty fucking cool, too. I am beyond exhausted. I have work bright and early tomorrow, so I am going to get some rest, if I can.