you cannot escape your fate

oh yes. i am maid for life. (note the pun.)

i left home and a life of cooking and, well, cooking (alright, occasional cleaning) to enter into a life of cooking (for myself), washing (my laundry) and cleaning up after flatmates. oh what joy.

i swear, if i weren't here, the bubonic plague would start recurring in london. starting from our kitchen.

SHE leaves dishes unwashed for a week. and pots and pans, as well. some days, when she's feeling either: a. really industrious; or b. really smart (-assed, as i would put it), she RINSES the GREASY cookware and puts them back on the shelf. way to go, einstein. that will REALLY do the trick.

i never thought i'd have problems with sanitation with a female. then again. she probably grew up being waited on hand and foot. plus she's the youngest in the apartment. not that it's a valid excuse, but it could explain a few things. the boys, in the meantime, are neat, but they don't exert extra effort to keep things under wraps. whereas I, the maid of all maids, clean the kitchen and the bathrooms before they start showing primitive life forms.

i cleaned the whole place (well, almost. did a good job in the kitchen, anyway.) before i went home for a holiday. (which was not actually much of a holiday, but that's another story.) when i came back after three weeks, lo and behold, all my good work undone. unwashed dishes sitting around. AGAIN. oven filled with layers of grease, grime, and lord-knows-what-else.

i did some cosmetic cleaning this afternoon. (just the kitchen, of course. i dare not touch the bathroom anymore.) i leave for germany tomorrow. i shudder to think what state the flat will be in upon my return. definitely not cleaner than when i left it. that is a non-question.

eight more months of this horror. i know i've got super powers, but this is a bit much. please, save me.