Weekend = grounded. So I’m stuck here.

[railenthe]

It’s the first day of the weekend. Well, kind of…I measure weekends by the start of nothing more to do, you know? So I consider Friday night to be part of the weekend. I’m trying to keep my sanity over here, but it doesn’t seem to want to work out that way. I started out getting in, getting my stuff stashed away as usual, when I saw something on the bed. A note, reading:

Hey--
you have the bathroom today.

Well, kiss me again, I get off of what could be presumably a hard day on campus (it really wasn’t as such :P) and I’ve got to do cleaning? Meh. Might as well get to it. So I do. Made my way back to the downstairs and grabbed the cleaning stuff. Get it out of the way as fast as possible, you know?

That was the plan, anyway.

The first thing that happens is that my kid stepbrother decides that he wants to start some crap. I don’t really pay that much attention to him, instead getting the remainder of my supplies and getting to the work that I had to finish before I could get to my computer. But he decides to make it difficult for me, bashing the door in whenever I shut it. Um, hello, I’m trying to wash the door here! It really doesn’t help me if I’ve got an inch of hardwood coming at my face at what could have been at least fifteen miles an hour. (He might be scrawny, but then again he’s a little boy and I’m a scrawny chica who can’t seem to lift over forty pounds without straining.) This interference makes what would have normally been a twenty-five minute job turn into one which takes up over an hour… I was losing my patience, and fast.

While I’m trying to get my singular task done, I’m getting hit with everything this little twerp can throw at me – literally, since there have been a few incidences of trash of various persuasions, pencils, and at one point my hair supplies were thrown at me. At about intervals of three minutes I tell him he’d best knock that sort of shit off before I decided to ‘go upside his head,’ as I’d so colorfully put it. Of course I resisted actually doing so – I didn’t want to be grounded worse than I already am, which means that I can’t get out and do my workouts as usual.

But DAMN. You have no idea how hard it was to resist taking the nearest blunt object and bashing him into the ground with it. It really made me wish I had a shoujo-mallet. It certainly would have been getting all kinds of mileage with that situation…

After what seemed like forever the ‘rents return to the house, and I report what’s been going on in excruciating detail. And what happens to the little brat? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I leave one notebook out in view, and I get grounded, when this CHILD steps to me and calls me such things as n***a, bitch, and tramp, and he gets off without even a slap on the wrist.

I swear to gods, it’s getting ridiculous around here. I think I’m moving out soon. Let’s hope.