You know, some days i swear to god they are out to destroy me. I finally get out and have a life of my own and i get back and am HAPPY for once in my pitiful existance and what do they do?!? The second i get in the house they have to piss and moan and bitch because, there is a glass on the counter instead of in the dishwasher. what a frocking crime. somewhere in between the vaccumning of the floor and 4:00 some stuff mysteriously landed on the floor. STUFF LIKE THAT HAPPENS!!! UGH! this dish wasnt done with the dishes? WHY! like it really matters, apparently it was used AFTER the dishes were done. THINK ABOUT IT! it isnt that hard.! its not rocket science! Oh fine, because i dont think these little perfectionistic details are important, threaten me with moving out. What a threat! pfft! more like a dream.! Staying here is the nightmare . I'm not afraid to be out by myself. I have places i could go until i could get both my feet under myself and i can fly on my own. Move out? YES PLEASE! Its only been my desire for the past 5 years.! Dear god, the daughter is happy, must stop this.! YOU DIDNT MAKE YOUR BED! honestly! Who the fuck gives a rats ass?!? A burgler that comes into my room isnt gonna be like, wow this must be a responsible child she made her bed.! perhaps i will reward her perfectionistic actions by not completely destroying and raiding her room.! ` rolls eyes. Yeah of course, oh i forgot the president is coming over and will be sorely offended if my bed isnt made. fuck the fact that i actually straightened my counters on my own will. that doesnt matter. God no never notice that my closet floor isnt a disaster anymore. What? She took her clothes downstairs and started washing them? Never notice that, dear god her bed isnt made. have her publicly flogged. Its not like i dont do what they ask me to. I mowed the lawn, 95 fluffing degrees outside, mowed the whole dry dusty pollen infested lawn. Had an athsma attack still cleaned the rest of the shit, who cares? she didnt make her bed and there is a piece of string from a blanket on the floor in the basement, and a glass is on the counter upstairs. What a disgrace.