Mamabear is gone, Grandmabear is gone, Cousinbear is gone, Sisterbear is gone. Brotherbear leaves at any and every chance. So it's just Papabear and Blogbear for now. It's not that I'm alone all the time but for more than a year I've never been home alone. There's always someone home in my household but things have changed lately. Papabear is busy bringing the bacon home so now I'm solitary. The thing is, I feel incredibly guilty when I want to go out or when I have the chance to. Or even if we're both at home and I don't hang with him (not that I ever do).
Usually I never clean, I don't like cleaning dishes, doing my laundry, making my bed -anything that involves my hands becoming wrinkly or smelling like I've been bleaching porn star arse holes all day. Now that there's no other women in the household I suddenly feel this gravitational pull, which is more guilt than a comfortable position, that I've gotta fill as the woman of the house.
Previously I could go months allowing a bowl of cereal to become solid or until there were a noticeable decrease in clean glasses or cutlery. If my room were ever messy I would just avoid it by never looking at it in the eyes and avoid sleeping in my own room but now I just get this pang of guilt whenever I see mess. I feel like the house is falling apart, I feel incredibly guilty knowing how hard Papabear is working, knowing he's only slept for three hours in the past couple of days. So I'm battling with my selfishness that would rather not pick up the slack around the house.
It's sad, it's so sad. Papabear can't live without Mamabear for too long. He can't cook for shit. He asked me to make him eggs for dinner... I wanted to cry. We're going out tonight because Mamabear's food has run out and so this is the best option.
This afternoon I felt lame, but an enjoyable kind of lame. I came home and washed the dishes... I never do this, ever. I cleaned my sneakers that Mamabear had been nagging me to clean for so long. I spent half an hour trying to work out how to use the ladder to get up to our attic. I found the Christmas tree amidst the dust and pulled it down with my weak arms. I was building up a sweat as the combination of my shaking arms and dust in my eyes made me want to jump off the ladder and die. So yeah, lame Blogbear put up the Christmas tree by herself.
Uh yeah, annnnd a guiltbag.
with much skill and lubrication, how else?
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