I am the dish fairy

(Koo koo ka choo!)

Yep, it's another self-deprecating rant by Jacob! That's what I post on here, right? Rants and music? If so, I'm glad to deliver!

But yeah, have you ever heard one of your parents/guardians say that the toilet paper doesn't replace itself; that there isn't some toilet paper fairy that poofs in a new roll when you exhaust the prior?

Well... guess what.

If you live with me (as I moved out a couple months ago into a house which will soon hold six college students including yours truly), there is in existence a dirty-dish equivalent of the aforementioned household sprite... and it's me.

This is the most relevant image I could find, and I don't feel like making OC today. Imagine that the bear is a fairy. Use your noodles.

I wouldn't call myself a clean freak; not in the slightest. And I definitely don't do it to be nice... I just hate it when dishes end up piled in the sink. Because I use that sink. For cleaning my dishes. And it's hard to clean dishes when you're unsure if the water has a usable path from the faucet to the drain. So I clean the dishes in the sink (which often requires emptying the dishwasher first).

Now some may say, "that's still nice of you to clean those dishes that aren't yours, Jacob!" Well, it gets less nice.

Now I wouldn't say I'm nonconfrontational (not in the slightest), but I do tend to be passive-aggressive every now and again. And if I clean dishes out of the sink, and you don't promptly notice and thank me, you may be getting the cold shoulder for the evening -- or if you're lucky, a nice sarcastic remark.

Actually, while I'm writing this, I'm starting to make a connection to my past... when I was a kid, one of the things my mother and I would get in fights about was the tendency of my bathroom to get a bit... out of hand. And sometimes, my mother wouldn't say anything to me at all about cleaning said bathroom, and would just clean it herself. Then she would get angry at me for not cleaning it myself (even though she didn't ask me to... that day, at least). And that was when the fight would begin.

So in conclusion, when we move out of our parents' houses, we get to see who we really are, since we are no longer under the watchful eye of our maternal and paternal authorities. I recently went through this process, and realized that I am my mother.

omg.

Jacob