144 - Reluctancy to do household chores

Hey guys! Today is my second-last week of school before my study leave begins. The exams start in May, so in less than a month, I'll be writing things down on pieces of paper that will determine my future. So excuse me if I'm not blogging as much. I'll try to make my posts longer in the months of April and May just to compensate, like this one for example. I have a lot of studying to do, but hopefully, I'll be back on Friday once more.

So, I hope everyone is enjoying Eastertime, 'cause I'm going to go indulge in a chocolate egg now. Toodles!

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A couple years back, during one of Hong Kong's hot summer holidays, I rented what is known as a 'holiday house' for a couple of days. There are many holiday houses around Hong Kong, mainly located in more rural areas outside the city, and on the outlying islands of Hong Kong, near beaches, biking trails and hiking routes. These houses are typically furnished with several beds, a TV, a fridge, chairs, tables, a pot, a pan, some eating utensils, and a barbecue pit in front of, or behind the house. What these holiday houses are, are basically houses you can rent for a few days to escape the technology and the pressures of citydom, and to spend time with your family or friends actually having fun the way it was meant to be had (i.e., non-electronically).

Two years ago, thirteen of my friends came along with me to live for four days in a holiday house on 'Cheung Chau' Island. Together, the fourteen of us played Playstation, rode bikes, threw frisbees and balls at each other on the beach, and of course, drank a lot of vodka with cranberry juice and Red Bull. There was one night in which I even started up a barbecue fire and cooked everybody's dinner. It was heaploads of fun... heaploads.

On the last night, however, something really bugged me. They were arguing over who should wash the dishes. Now, for the whole four long days, and three long, sleepless nights, I didn't really care who was picking up for all of us, and cleaning up after us, so long as somebody was doing it. Of course, it was preferable if everybody chipped in to prevent the house from looking too untidy.

I really didn't care who swept the sand off the floor after we all came back with sand in our hair, clothes and shoes, who mopped the floor after we returned from the beach dripping in salty seawater. I didn't care who washed the pot and the pan and the plates after we had pasta on the first night, or who wiped the barbecue forks clean on the second night. I didn't care who went out in the morning to get everybody's breakfast, or who went out in the afternoon to shop for groceries, or who went to the supermarket after dinner to buy dessert, or who went after midnight to restock on junk food.

But the fact of the matter was, I did everything. For the enjoyment of everybody else, I really did everything. I made sure those who needed to leave early knew how to get home, and ensured the safe arrival of those who joined us later. I made sure the floors, the cooking and eating apparatuses, and the barbecue pit were all clean. I cooked dinner for everybody, I went out to buy groceries, to buy breakfast, to buy junk food, to buy drinks, and to buy dessert. I pointed out to people which way the beach was, where to get bikes, where the best place to sit and talk was, where the supermarket was, how to use the shower, and Hell, even where the damn Cheetos were stashed.

And most importantly, I had the key to the house. And that meant I had to follow everyone everywhere so that they had a way back into the house when they got tired.

On the last night, all thirteen of them decided to go out on a walk while I was just about to doze off curled up in my bed. I heard the door close, and I thought to myself, "If I'm the only one who has the key, and I'm asleep, do they all expect me to just wake up to open the door for them later on, after all the work that I did in the past few days for them?"

I had had enough of their slothfulness, so I ran out after them. At first, I was shouting angrily. Then I was shouting hysterically. Then I was crying about how sick and tired I was of cleaning up after them and catering them and letting them have fun. I was simply exhausted.

I have a very good friend with whom I talk to almost every night. It makes me smile when he sends me a message, "brb dishes", or "brb gotta take out the trash". It's admirable and quite a sweet quality for a guy if he's been brought up to do these sorts of things. He'd make a good husband one day.

I washed the dishes tonight after my mother and I had our first homemade meal together in over a year or so. I wash the dishes after every time I cook/bake stuff for myself to eat. I just do it 'cause it's logical... someone has to do it. It might as well be me, right? I mean, I don't see what's so disgusting about doing the dishes. And as for sweeping and mopping the floor, that's easy, and wiping the cabinets and stuff is not that difficult. Picking up the kids' toys doesn't take more than a minute, and doing the laundry is basically throwing clothes into a box and at the press of a button, voilà.

People... People: please do the dishes, even if it's not yours. Do your chores, they don't take long. I don't want to have an emotional breakdown in front of anybody again, and I don't want anyone to suffer from the same situation, because it's quite embarrassing to be crying over dirty dishes.

So, anyway, do you know anyone who hates doing the chores? Don't you hate them too?