Allergic to cleaning.

I am exactly what the title suggests.

To give you a little history, my paramour and I have been together for the last seven years, and we're heading into year eight. We're not married... me fault, I put on the breaks because I did not want to have a divorce in three years 'cause I married a man who doesn't do his share of everything.

Now that he's working and I'm not, he gets to throw the same things at me that I used to at him, and though I look chastised (don't think I'm fooling him for a second) after a stern lecture, inwardly I'm cackling and muttering "How do YOU like it? Hmm?"

I'm slowly going insane from boredom, and if I don't find a nice job somewhere with air conditioning and internet access, I'll probably start picking the threads out of the couch one at a time. The problem is, I'm vastly overqualified for basic retail, but without a collage degree I'm limited to a rather short list of positions in my paygrade. (Seriously, I type 60 wpm, I'm fluent in most basic computer programs, and can handle vista without sobbing and throwing my computer in the lake. I taught myself how to use Adobe Imageready in FOUR HOURS. The first thing I ever made was and it's the first time I EVER used an animation program. I'm qualified as sin, SOMEONE hire me!!)


I know, I know, I'm getting to the allergies.

Since I have nothing better to do then farm gold on my world of warcraft account, play Halo 3 online, and drink coffee, my working other half likes to assign me to do housework. Housework, to those who don't know me, goes against every fiber of my being. He will say "Kitty, when I get home in five hours, I want the dishes to be washed, the bedroom cleaned and all the dirty laudry washed and dried and folded."

I will salute and say "Yes siiiir!" And then sign on world of warcraft. He comes home and if he is VERY lucky and the Horde were being monumental cunts (in the way that only 15 year old boys can be) ONE of these things will be half done.

On those wonderful days he's off work, and decides "LETS CLEAN TODAY!" I cling to my bed and stolen sleep and mutter about when the stabbings will commence and who will help me hide the body.

I will make a concerted effort to help clean, but within fifteen minutes I'm sneezing and crying because my face is exploding, and he'll send me and my sniveling, handicapped self off to go shopping. Just being IN the house will cause the allergies to flare up, till I'm two benadryl in, chanting about bunnies and how the world is dizzy and the walls are making me mad. My allergies are to pet dander, dust, mold, and cleaning products without proper ventilation. This is on a normal cleaning day.


Today was an all new level of housework death. I was trying to vacuume the second living room. We just removed a couch from there to make more room, and revealed a floor covered in fur and ceiling chunks from when we tore the ceiling down. I didn't know the bagless vaccume was full. I don't clean, so I'm an idiot with these things. As it was full, all these wonderful allergens were thrown RIGHT up in my face, and within the first minute I'm sneezing. Then coughing. Then feeling nauseous and fleeing to the bathroom.

I swear to god, I'm so bad at housework that I THREW UP. My roommate gently explained that the vaccume was full and completely took over while I retched in the bathroom and then fled from house to buy our puppy treats.

So now I'm avoiding work any way I can, and sucking on my intercrack like my life depends on it.


I don't know how I lived before having a blog.