i feel like such a fucking baby crying because my mum had a go at me because the house wasn't up to her standards after she got back from her weekend away with my dad but I TRIED. I was doing it all alone, tidying up after my fucking cunt of a fucking lazy cunty brother who did fuck all the whole time other than act moody, half-assedly attempt to put the washing up away and picking up 1 shit from the kitten.
I worked 18 hours over 3 days which yeah isn't a lot but it's a new job and it's stressful and my anxiety has been high because I have to meet so many new people and also interact with customers which is fine but it's tiring and I was on my feet 6 hours each day which is hard when I'm not used to it. Then I had to get home, change the food and water for the cats, tidy up all the shit my brother left out, then on Friday he wanted to make a fucking cake which is fine other than he didn't help me tidy up at all, just went upstairs to fuck around.
I just tried okay. I was fucking exhausted. New job, looking after 2 kittens who are literally 10 weeks old! She spent the entire weekend fucking doing nothing other than relaxing which is fine but I DIDN'T.
And then she made me feel like shit about my fucking job because I was telling her a story about customers and she was like just nitpicking everything and being like oh i hope you didn't do that, oh, really you can pour a pint now, can you? A pint of what? water? Like fuck off. I work at a bar and can pour a pint so fuck off. I know how to act around customers and around the people I work with just fuck off. I was just excited to tell her funny stories about customers and she shit all over my excitement.
Then she had a go at me because there was icing sugar on the scales, a baking tray hadn't been washed and I hadn't put the mixing bowl away. 1) sorry for not fucking cleaning every inch of your goddam fucking house. 2) that fucking baking tray was used by my cunty brother whilst I was at work last night and I fucking ASKED HIM to wash it up and he said "Why?" in a fucking moody fucking voice. Then when I said it wasn't me who used it she was like "IT HAS POTATO ON IT YOU HAD POTATO ON SATURDAY IT'S BEEN DIRTY SINCE SATURDAY" Like no it fucking HASN'T you stupid fucking twat. Your stupid son only eats potato so maybe you should have a fucking go at him you cunt. 3) I left the mixing owl where you fucking left the mixing bowl so fuck off and also YOU HAVE ANOTHER KID WHO LITERALLY sat on his arse for 4 fucking days.
I was at WORK. Like, yeah, I'm angry but I'm crying as I write this because I'm so fed up and nothing I ever do is good enough for her. I loaded and unloaded the dishwasher twice, washed every thing up from the whole weekend other than a singular baking tray that my brother used, did a load of laundry and put all that away, made sure the cats had fresh water every few hours and had enough food, also played with them and kept them company, also worked 18 hours at a new job meeting so many different people which is so tiring.
Like. Please. I tried my best. Why does she have to nitpick every single thing?