Passive Aggressive Theater

I am currently trying to make sure that in the history of stubborness, mine is legendary. LEGENDARY, I tell you.

Each day, I grow more and more frustrated with my living situation. You know, the one I said I wasn't allowed to bitch about anymore. I can't help it. Especially knowing that her departure date is now sometime between March and April. 

How did two months stretch into nearly four? Hw is it that I have not said anything? 

I have learned that I can be bought. Not only did I put myself in this situation for the love of money (really, it was so I don't have to live paycheck to paycheck because I don't have any cushion, but as long as we are being dramatic...) But I have stayed in it because of that sweet golden carrot. 

One more month? sure, I can suck it up. Except that the assumption is that she can take her time getting out as long as I am paid for my time. And I have not corrected her. 

I need to. NEED TO REALLY BAD. I no longer want to be at my house. The smell of dogs hits my nose as soon as I walk in. It isn't because the place isn't vacuumed all the time, it's because there are TOO MANY animals in this house. Words I never thought I would say now exit my mouth every day. 

Friday night, I got home and the house was empty. For the first time in months, it felt like my house. And I knew I needed, for my own sanity, to tell her it's time to go. The first part of March. I need my space back. 

Have I done so? Nope. Instead, I do little things to try to annoy her. The turtles need more water because the tank is too loud? I'll get to it eventually. Dining table is a little too piled with my paperwork? I will get to that eventually too. Same with the dead flowers on the table. Eventually. 

She asked me to clean up a bit the other day. Eh. It looks fine.

This is not the way to handle things, I know. And I need to be a grown up. But I don't feel like it right now. It's so much easier to just be messy...