I hate mornings. Suffice it is to say, I am not a morning person. But I have to wake up – to wave this warm blanket out of my way and do some chores.
I have been raised in a household where playing your part in the chores is… essential. Well, what can I say? I have a ‘nuclear’ family; doing my part is necessary, right?
Water needs to be heated if I want a decent cup of coffee to accompany me. As my eyes thoroughly sweep at the sights inside the house, I couldn’t help but make that tut-tut sound.
Why does everybody think its fine to leave their things scattered everywhere?
It is not okay. Sure, they may have been in a hurry. But that hurrying is in part, a grand display for the lack of planning and organisation. My siblings – my oh why – they’re old enough to know this, right?
And one by one, I attend to rearranging the tornado-infested drawer. I crinkle my nose at the sight of unashamed dust.
Why can’t they ever lay a wet cloth on these parts? I mean, surely, it isn’t that difficult – nor is it too much?
But before I could pick a cloth, the kettle sings. My coffee waits…
Nice job! Now, I wouldn’t be able to attend to these cleaning without wincing?! It burned a decent square-inch part of my right hand. And I’m right-handed.
This is getting duller than ever. Minutes and hours pass. The laundry’s done. Working in water, somehow, helped numbed the pain in my right hand. Perhaps, this day isn’t so bad.
Okay, this is just a rant written in response to a Daily Prompt.
I don’t always see stuff this way; I’d rather believe I’m blessed, you know?