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Wednesday, 26 December 2012

... and back into the fire

Maybe BCN was a grouch and LC6 is insufferable, but I'm quickly growing tired of how it was here. It started with my Christmas presents for the others, which had been under the tree long before the other presents and were completely ignored by aunt A when she packed presents to deliver at BCM's. I asked if we weren't taking them. She said no. They only packed their presents. To this day, they're still unopened and are now an inconvenience. Fine. When I got back from the Christmas celebrations at 1am or whenever, I came to my room and found the bed undone, which was at least a little annoying, but fine. Then so be it. I arrived to an undone bed the first time, it was silly to expect otherwise. 

It continued with uncle A talking about the PhD he wants me to get and the health insurance paperwork I haven't gotten around to just yet, and now telling me about how to make tuition less expensive (not possible the way he's thinking of it) and how to use the graphing calculator... 

Just as I was settling on doing as uncle A said and familiarising myself with the new calculator, aunt A asks if I'm going to have lunch. What's there to eat? Rice. And do I care for leftovers from yesterday. I suggest pasta with tuna and tomato sauce, and I get to it. Aunt A doesn't offer to help but does question my choice of pot to boil water in. When the pasta is ready I tell aunt A and help myself. She said she'd get to it, and only just started putting pasta in her plate when I was almost done eating. When I was finished, rather than leave her alone in the kitchen, I decided to wash the dishes and the stove. Earlier this morning when I left the plate I ate breakfast from to be washed, I noticed the sink full of washed plates and asked if we weren't putting them in the machine anymore. Aunt A said we weren't, and to wash the plate I was bringing by hand, so I did. I started cleaning the stove and aunt A said I was going to scratch it with a paper towel because it wasn't wet. I argued this wasn't possible and went on until the stove looked clean enough. I then started on the dishes, first washing and setting aside what could be recycled, including the two cans of tuna. Aunt A stopped me on the way to the recycling bins because in this house they don't ever recycle aluminium and her argument this time was that if the men who pick up the trash cut themselves with the cans they will sue the homeowners (which is preposterous). I did as she said, somewhat reluctantly, and then set about washing the dishes. When I had only two glasses left to wash she remarked I was supposed to be putting the dishes in the machine, so I did. 

*Nazgûl shriek*

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