Harbouring Irritations

30 September 2005
I’ve noticed myself getting rather snappy. Not particularly rude or overtly scornful, but just slightly off-kilter. I don’t like it. I’m tired, stressed, unwell, and lonely. Unfortunately for everyone else, they’re affected by it. I like to think that, in general, I’m able to hide any bad mood I let myself harbour, and that I don’t let it affect the way I interact with others. Lately, though, my tolerance level has gone down and I feel constantly on edge – afraid that anything might push me over and cause me to snap, to the detriment to whomever happens to be around at the time.

One of the many things that have been irritating me is the state of the house. Honestly, how difficult is it to put your dishes in the dishwasher? I’m tempted to teach a one-time class: "How To Do Your Dishes In 3 Easy Steps". Is that what they need? Someone to show them exactly how to do it, and reinforce in their minds that it’s not as hard as they seem to think? I love my roommates, really I do, but at the moment I'm frustrated with them. I’m not a generally neat person, and definitely not a neat freak. And yet, when nothing gets clean, it grates on my nerves. The environment affects me; I feel stressed, tense, and easily irritated. I have many long days on campus, and honestly the last thing that I want to come home to is a messy house. Not calming, not peaceful, and not motivating.

Yesterday I was on campus all day, until 11:45 – just an example of what a typical day has been like the last couple of weeks. When I got home, what did I find but a sink full of dishes? Surprise, surprise. I was rather upset but decided that the most efficient use of time would be to just clean it up and get on with what I needed to do. So I did, and then proceeded to work on homework for awhile. While I was sat at the table staring at my computer, wondering why on earth I ever decided to go to college, a roommate of mine (bless her heart) walked into the kitchen and put her bowl and cup in the sink…it was all I could do to not take them out of the sink, put them back in her hands, and make her put them in the dishwasher herself. I was tempted to treat her like a 4 year old… “No, that’s not where the dishes go. Now where /do/ they go? Can you find the right place for them? The dishwasher…that’s right! What matching skills!!! Good job.” Patronizing yes, but possibly appropriate for the situation?

My tolerance level was all but reached. Later that evening, as my roommates were getting ready for bed, I reached my limit and stopped my homework to clean the living room. As I came across something belonging to one of my roommates, I put it on the girl’s bed so she would be sure to put it away. Or throw it on the floor, which is fine because I don’t care as long as it’s in her bedroom. Caitlin and Emilie watched me do this and said “Oh, thank you Tarythe, you’re so sweet.” As I was walking out I replied, “No, I’m /not/ sweet.” Once I was barely out of earshot I continued, muttering, “I’m resigned. I’m resigned to the fact that I’m the /only/ one who does anything around here, and basically I’ve reached my tolerance level with this place.” It wasn’t mean, but a snappier comment that was probably necessary. Last night I dreamed that I really let into my roommates, I mean screaming and yelling and actually rather articulately expressing my frustrations about the state of the house. I woke up this morning upset with myself and wanting to apologize to all of them. I hadn’t realized how frustrated I’ve been about this whole come-home-and-throw-my-crap-everywhere thing that my roommates are doing; I suppose I should actually talk to them about it. What? /Talk/ to them about it? But then that would be…responsible? Mature? Communicative? No, way. I can’t do that.