As I said, my mother came home last night.

[conuly]

And gave me one last rant on her brother (well, I'm sure there'll be more, but they'll be faded with distance).

"He goes into the kitchen and moves things around noisily for a few minutes and then complains that he's doing all the cleaning!"

And I sat there and should be commended for not saying "Oh, wow, that totally doesn't sound familiar to me at all!"

I love my mother, but cleaning isn't exactly her forte.

Comments

[ncp.livejournal.com]

Wait... your uncle cleans? Is this the same uncle who lives in the House o'Crap?

[conuly]

My uncle doesn't clean, that's the whole point.

He goes into the kitchen and runs the water for a minute, then declares that He is the Only One washing the dishes, and That is why he Only Uses disposable dishes, and then he storms out.

Or, when asked to move some of his crap off the kitchen table so there's at least an inch of space he rummages around a little, declares that he does all the work and he's sick of it, and storms out.



This is rather similar (not that I'll say that aloud) to my mother, who for years would spend five minutes with a mop on our (horrendous) kitchen floor, and then proceed to spend three days ranting about how she Stayed Up All Night Scrubbing. (I hate cleaning, and I hate scrubbing the floor, but I at least know you have to move the mess from the floor before you can mop it up, which is why 15 minutes of my work, when I worked, accomplished more than her All Night Scrub Sessions.)

[(Anonymous)]

Wait... your uncle cleans? Is this the same uncle who lives in the House o'Crap?

[conuly]

My uncle doesn't clean, that's the whole point.

He goes into the kitchen and runs the water for a minute, then declares that He is the Only One washing the dishes, and That is why he Only Uses disposable dishes, and then he storms out.

Or, when asked to move some of his crap off the kitchen table so there's at least an inch of space he rummages around a little, declares that he does all the work and he's sick of it, and storms out.



This is rather similar (not that I'll say that aloud) to my mother, who for years would spend five minutes with a mop on our (horrendous) kitchen floor, and then proceed to spend three days ranting about how she Stayed Up All Night Scrubbing. (I hate cleaning, and I hate scrubbing the floor, but I at least know you have to move the mess from the floor before you can mop it up, which is why 15 minutes of my work, when I worked, accomplished more than her All Night Scrub Sessions.)