Sharing

I quite seriously dislike sharing. I always have. It’s one of those weird things about me, but I can’t stand it when people use my crap. I share anyway, like a good girl, I offer, and in the beginning I tend to not mind. It’s after a certain point that I get really bothered. Especially when that sharing becomes implied for all future times someone wants to use my stuff. They seem to not bother asking once they’ve received initial permission to use something.

This becomes more bothersome to me when it’s something I deem on the precious side. For instance, my laptop. You visit me and stay in my home, you need to check your email, I’ll lend you my iBook. This does not fucking mean you can then pick the damn thing up whenever you want and use it. If I’m not using it, it doesn’t mean I’m not about to. You should at least fucking ask.

This is the last day my MIL is here. She leaves in the morning, on an 8am flight, because I guess she thought it was a good thing to make us take her to the fucking airport at 5am. I’m becoming mildly irritated by a few things, so I need to blow off a bit of steam. Nice that she’s here, nice she can see Otto, and he her, but I’m ready to have my house back.

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