Boyfriend comes home, sees toilet [I have resolutely refused to touch the toilet after my almost-brush-with-death-and-lysol earlier this week], and instantly decides that since I am of female persuasion that I have never touched a plunger, much less attempted to fix a toilet before. In all fairness, I have more toilet-problem history than the average person, my little sister used to clog mine up all the time through a variety of methods so I was taught to wield the plunger early in life.
However, boyfriend did not agree with this, and solely based on my status as a female (ok in all fairness, I can't do anything for my car for shit. I don't even know how to fill my tires up, but still) decided that he, as MAN of the house, was capable of defeating the toilet.
Boy was he wrong.
As expected, the toilet decided that it was time for the Great Flood of 2012 to occur (I guess we are three months away from certain death, thanks Mayans), and of course I had to clean it up. Mostly because I am a germ freak when it comes to toilets and all that entails, partially because I consider myself a super cleaner after years of "you can't go see your friends/go to a movie/go to swim practice/read Harry Potter until the bathroom/floors/kitchen etc. are clean."
So, here I am, still feeling as if I am literally covered in e. coli, and frustrated. The frustration? Because I still don't have complete control of my emotions yet, which means I wouldn't consider myself mentally stable yet, which means another step backwards in terms of getting my stomach medication. I am not kidding you, this is beginning to feel like the never ending journey. I feel like every time I take a few steps forward, some physical or mental obstacle comes along to fuck it all up and push me back.
I am not kidding you, I was either Hitler in my past life, or all of my 'I'm a terrorist' comments are catching up to me (I'm sure my house is bugged--it's fun having a birthday on 9/11 and having a pakistani last name. Thanks, Bush & the Patriot Act, I really enjoy using my car to go to Texas instead of flying because apparently there is bomb residue on my graphing calculator. Right.
Anyway, I don't know the source of this karma, or whether I simply have bad luck, but I am tired, hungry, nauseated, and frustrated. I honestly find it kind of impressive to experience all those feelings at once. Hunger + Nausea is possibly the most contradicting, confusing feeling in the world. It isn't fair when half your stomach is telling you to stuff your face, while the other half is all "try it, bitch. just try me."
I guess it's just one of those days.
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