The Undomestic Goddess

I thought the domestic gene was in every girl, kind of like the motherly gene. I thought it just kicks in when you're on your own and when it needs to and then it's there.

Apparently not.

Some background on me: I never had to do many chores growing up - just the occassional emptying of the dishwasher or vacuuming; never had to make my bed before I left my room in the morning.

But once I was on my own, I knew to pick up after myself. I knew to vacuum weekly. I knew not to leave crumbs sitting on the counter because bugs will be drawn and I knew to take out the trash when it was full. I knew to wipe up spills and throw away trash. Doesn't every girl know to do those things - even the spoiled ones?

Again, apparently not.

I must say my necessity to have a clean home has become somewhat of an obsession. I understand that I'm unlike most people when it comes to keeping things straight and in order and cleaned up. I know that I can be a bit overbearing on how I like things to look so I try to keep that in mind when I live with someone and let most things roll off my back. After all, I do enjoy cleaning so if I have to do a little picking up after someone from time to time, who cares... right?

Well, I live with a freak of nature when it comes to domestication. I can't possibly understand how a grown women has absolutely no sense when it comes to cooking, cleaning, laundry and really just common sense.

I lived on my own for a while - and let me tell you it was the best experience of my life - and during that time it was heaven. Nothing out of place. No dirty dishes. No crumbs on the counters or floors. Trash never overflowing. I know it's an obsession and probably a bit OCD like, but it's how I like it and it's what keeps me sane.

Somehow in my current living situation, there are constantly chunks of food that I step on, coffee stains covering the appliances, crumbs all over the counters, used paper towels sitting on by the sink, and even... FLIES. Where do the flies come from you ask? From the disposal because the Undomestic Goddess doesn't know how to run it once she puts food down it.

I know what you're doing right now as you read this. You're asking yourself, "why don't you just say something to her so that she'll stop?"

Oh, I have. I've said it politely. I've said it with sass. I've cleaned it up in front of her face to prove a point. But to no avail. This bitch just doesn't get it.

When it comes to cooking, I'm not the best. Hell, I don't even try. Unfortunately, UD does try. And she tries with MY kitchen supplies.

I'll give you two examples.

Numero Uno: UD noticed that I own a George Forman grill. She asked me how to use it and I begrudingly told her. I explained to her how to turn it on and how to clean it so that she wouldn't screw it up. Well, forgetting that UD lacked common sense, I failed to mention that there is a drip tray to go along with the grill. And UD failed to ask where it was. It was about 5 minutes into her meal-making that I realized she had a paper towel sitting where the drip tray should be to catch the grease. Not only was it sitting there, it was full on - purposely - touching the grill. Apparently she was hoping to get a visit from the fire department sometime during the evening. I corrected her and immediately left so that I wouldn't pull out her hair.

Numero Dos: UD text messaged me on my way home from work one evening asking me if she can put the PLASTIC cover to my cakepan in the oven. I immediately called her and told her NO. She actually made the following statement, "Okay good, I'm glad you called. I couldn't decide between the plastic or a dish towel to cover the lasagna in the oven so I'll use the dish towel." Again, I corrected her in a very unpatient tone.

I got home later that night to my plastic pan cover melted on the counter. She told me she'd buy me a new one. I'm still waiting.

How did this girl grow up? What does her mother's home look like? I'd love to have a serious sit down conversation with the people that raised this girl and ask them why they never taught their child some brain power or sound judgement.

So please, for all of you Undomestic Goddesses out there, get your shit together. After all, cleanliness is next to Godliness.