Boyfriend and I are in the kitchen having a 'discussion'. It is the same 'discussion' we've been having since we moved in together.
"Why can't you empty the bins when they are full?" I ask.
"Why can't you tell me when the bins are full?" Boyfriend replies.
"How can you not tell when the bins are full?" I say raising my voice slightly.
"I can't be an expert on everything," Boyfriend counters.
"If you're resorting to putting rubbish on top of the bin. Then it's full," I yell.
"Sometimes my hands are too full. I can't open the bins," Boyfriend says.
I give him the 'look'. "You don't need hands to open the lid. That's why there's a foot pedal!"
"Well...why can't you empty the bins then?"
"It's not my job!" I yell waving the broom in my hands around like a mad woman.
"Since when is it my job?"
"Since I nominated you on the list."
"What list?" Boyfriend yells.
I point to the list on the fridge. Boyfriend glances at it briefly. It is his turn to give me the 'look'.
"I do most of the chores around here," I say.
Boyfriend huffs and roll his eyes. Before he can say anything else, I decide to make a quick exit lest I give in temptation and resort to violence. I sit on the porch steps and sulk instead.
A few minutes later Boyfriend follows me outside.
"Watcha doin'?" he asks contritely giving me a slight nudge with his foot.
I glare at him. "Sitting alone listening to silence," I mutter. For emphasis I use the broom handle to push him away.
Boyfriend tempts fate and my patience. He hands me a folded piece of paper before walking away whistling, rubbish bags in hand. I unfold the paper. It is my list. On it Boyfriend has written 'I AGREE TO DO ALL THE CHORES ASKED OF ME'.
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