I'm trying, I'm trying.
I have asked my family over and over for two things.
1) Rinse your dishes.
2) Clean up your own mess that your own self made. Bad grammar, but I need to be specific so no one thinks I am tricking them into cleaning up after someone else.
And tonight as I stood at the sink in the kitchen washing by hand dishes that have been run through the dishwasher twice and not come clean...I was ranting. A little out loud, a lot in my head. Two things I ask for. Two. No one does them.
I feel like I am the slave to a family of five. An outcast in my own home. Not part of the family.
There is a show I used to watch where the matriarch realized one day that she had given all of herself away to her family, and it was time for her to do what she wanted. So she went away, alone, on an extended art tour. That could be me one day. So very easily, it could be me.
So as I scrub/rinsed the dishes and loaded them back into the dishwasher, my imagination took me on a trip, away from my house where all of me belongs to someone else and not to myself. I smiled as I related my life to the little red hen's story, thinking about what my delicious bread will be.
And then back to reality I flew as my husband came in from symphony rehearsal. He made some noises of discomfort, mentioned that he remembered to pick up his prescription, and then left his dinner container, a sandwich bag, and all the prescription papers and bag on the kitchen counter on his way upstairs to take a bath.
After I cleaned the stuff up, I sat on the couch to watch a show with my teenager. And why the hell not? Can't beat 'em, join 'em.
Just letting it go...letting everything go...so it can hang with the rest of the let go stuff, wherever it all goes when it is...let go...
Edit to add: just came upstairs at midnight to finally go to bed. Found dog's collection of crap he gathered from everyone's rooms, including a roll of toilet paper that he so kindly shredded all over the landing.
Slave to six, is what it should read above. Not five, six.