Because it's my blog, and I can do whatever I want on here, I am going to take a moment out of my day to tell you a little story.
It's about a girl, let's just call her Schmarly, who is desperately wanting to get things ready for Christmas because she loves it SOOOOO MUCH!
She, unfortunately, still lives with her mother, who happens to say that the Christmas decorations can't go up until the house is clean and organized (and let's just say that isn't an easy feat most of the time).
So, Schmarly vows to work on the house all day to get it clean and organized so Sunday she can spend the whole day listening to Christmas music and putting up the tree.
Enter very frustrating boyfriend... who we'll call... I dunno... SCHMAD.
Now, Schmad does things outside sometimes, such as blow the leaves off the deck (which he has done about 14.75 times in the past week). But when it comes to inside the house, he is basically USELESS. Schmarly tells Schmad "hey Schmad, you should probably go through that pile of clothes you haven't worn in 2 years and decide what you want to get rid of, because we are making a run to the donation truck today". Schmad grudgingly agrees. He comes out with 5 pairs of jeans. Enter Schmad's friend Schmurtis, who seems interested in the rejected jeans. The two of them go gallavanting off to the rifle range for the afternoon, after having made no decisions on said jeans.
Not long after the departure of the boys, Mom loads the car up with the stuff that is being donated and heads off to the donation truck, promising to come home and work on the house with Schmarly.
Schmarly spends the remainder of the afternoon at home, alone, watching Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders on TV and organizing BY HERSELF.
A few hours pass. Finally Schmad and Schmurtis get back. Schmad runs in, changes his shoes, and runs back outside... to blow leaves.
Schmurtis sits quietly and watches DCC with Schmarly.
A few minutes later, mom comes home. With bags full of treasures that she found at the outlet mall after dropping off the donations.
Schmad comes in from blowing leaves. Changes Schmarly's channel. And sits right in the middle of where she is working.
Mom heats up some leftovers, and retreats to her room.
Schmarly bites her tongue and launches passive agressive comments at Schmad as she bangs around trying to clean.
Then she resorts to writing an angry post on her blog. While glaring at the pile of rejected jeans on the chair across from her.