I Hate My Job!

I am so sick of doing the same things day in, day out.  Cooking, cleaning, washing.  It is odd I feel this way because most times I am contented with what I do, and I usually thrive on routine.  I don't particularly welcome change of schedule, it makes me jumpy and easily annoyed.  So when there is a constant set of things waiting to be done, at my own timing, you would not see me complain, at least not all the time.  Of course I nag.  Name me one woman who doesn't.

Today is the day I hate doing anything for anyone but I still have to do them.  This feeling sucks.  I want to just rot and read my novel in bed, not cook and serve the masters.  Not vacuum the house and do the laundry.  I got so upset that it is expected of me to prepare and serve him breakfast.  I got up early to make mine, one that he doesn't eat.  Just when mine was hot and ready, he rose from bed and entered the living room, so I asked rhetorically if he wanted breakfast, knowing he doesn't eat immediately when he awakes.  He surprised me with a yes.  Pleasantly surprised was I not, on the contrary, quite the opposite.  So, now my hot mee siam will have to wait while I prepare his.  Even though it would take only 5 minutes to warm up his bread and milk, I was utterly reluctant to the core, yet I suppressed my rising irritation to do it in silence, all the time questioning myself in my head if this is really what is expected of me, EVERY.  DAY.

I don't know why I didn't tell him to prepare himself, because sometimes I do that.  Perhaps, just to give me another reason to sulk today.  I hate the thought that people take me for granted just because I do this for them all the time.  I become the default butler.

Later in the day, he came up from his work, I knew he was hungry.  I willed myself not to prepare his food.  I decided to be mean and calculative.  I asked, "are you hungry?"  Obviously.  I simply said there were some tomatoes and mozzarella cheese in the fridge, unwashed, uncut.  Help himself.  He wasn't not pleased, "wow, how nice!" was what came out from his mouth.  I couldn't be bothered.

I am not likable today.  Ultimately, I still do everything I don't want to do, but with a very long face.  My replies were short, one would know I wasn't in my best moods.  I left the vacuum cleaner in the bedroom after I was finished, hoping someone would get the message that I seriously detested my job.  But of course, people went in and out of the bedroom, crossed over it and did not occur to them that the vacuum cleaner was standing in the way.  In the end, to protect myself from tripping over it tonight, I shoved it roughly to the room beside it, still unwilling to keep it in the cupboard because I WANT MY MESSAGE TO BE HEARD.  I don't harbour any hope.  But I won't keep it.

I really, really hate my job.