Greasing the O-ring
When it comes to domestic matters around the house, I tend to do as little as I can get away with, as it is part of my lazy nature. The good lady tells me that socks are invisible to me, which is true some of the time. I honestly don't see them sometimes, other times I see them but honestly don't care too much about it. I know I know... I sound like the everlasting slob. But while I don't really mind if I leave my socks around, and the fact there is an endless sea of empty drink containers in my office area, there is a point where I have to draw the line. I can't stand ants, fruit flies, or my house smelling like rotted food. I enjoy a happy medium between a bit of clutter and having everything shiny and spotless; my apartment looks like someone lives there. While my g/f likes it to lean more towards the clean side, and I do because, well, heh, there is some stuff still scattered about.
For some reason this all seems to change when extended family comes to visit. It's not like your parents, because when you were a child your parents know how to kept your bedroom, and in my case they still live locally so they see it every now and then and know what my demeanor for such tasks is. But extended family members; the aunts, uncles, and cousins of the world, for some reason they demand the toothbrush-to-the-kitchen-tiles and dust-the-ceiling-fans treatment. It procures the strangest looks, that say both "I can't believe you're actually doing this", followed closely by "Why can't you do this when *I* ask you to?!" Reasons unknown, you want them to enter the house, awestruck at how nice and clean and wonderfully smelling your place is, sit down on a nice comfortable couch, and shoot the shit with comments like "wow how much does a place like this run for?" and "is this new carpet? because it looks like new carpet." Oblidgingly their questions are answered and they go on their way, and later that night the dishes don't even reach the sink; the momentary lapse in laziness expires, and everything returns to normal.
I suppose I'll go pick up my socks before bed.
For some reason this all seems to change when extended family comes to visit. It's not like your parents, because when you were a child your parents know how to kept your bedroom, and in my case they still live locally so they see it every now and then and know what my demeanor for such tasks is. But extended family members; the aunts, uncles, and cousins of the world, for some reason they demand the toothbrush-to-the-kitchen-tiles and dust-the-ceiling-fans treatment. It procures the strangest looks, that say both "I can't believe you're actually doing this", followed closely by "Why can't you do this when *I* ask you to?!" Reasons unknown, you want them to enter the house, awestruck at how nice and clean and wonderfully smelling your place is, sit down on a nice comfortable couch, and shoot the shit with comments like "wow how much does a place like this run for?" and "is this new carpet? because it looks like new carpet." Oblidgingly their questions are answered and they go on their way, and later that night the dishes don't even reach the sink; the momentary lapse in laziness expires, and everything returns to normal.
I suppose I'll go pick up my socks before bed.