ok. i'm going to publicly clarify what i have long known about myself. (no, not the gay thing. hell, hasn't everybody got that memo by now?) i'm talking more about my role in the greater scheme of things. i am "a Handler". you know, one of those annoying bitches who bring up something that needs to be done and then harasses you about doing it, even though you never will, until we finally just HANDLE it.
now. "why even bother with the harassment?" you may be asking. because (my poor, simple friend) Handlers are the WMD of the Doing world. we are Doing Napalm. we should be the Last Resort. because when it reaches the point where i need to handle it, i just want it done. i don't care how.
so if i say, "you need to clean up your room" (repeatedly) and it doesn't get done and (sigh) i decide i need to handle it -- i may decide that apparently all that shit on the floor is unnecessary and give it all to Goodwill. i may decide that all that stuff you've put on the wall is the equivalent of a used Post-It note and tear that shit down and throw it away. or i may decide that you obviously cannot manage such a difficult-to-clean space and move your bed to the garage. (after all, concrete floors are easier to clean and you're that much closer to the laundry and garbage cans.)
so -- once i handle it, don't come to me with stupid questions like, "where is all my stuff?" or "what did you do with my X-box?" or "why's my bed in the garage?" i am recuperating from the exertion of Handling. (and possibly trying to decide how i want to decorate my new sitting room.) just go away and be happy in the knowledge that i have handled it for you.
oh, and you're welcome.
now. "why even bother with the harassment?" you may be asking. because (my poor, simple friend) Handlers are the WMD of the Doing world. we are Doing Napalm. we should be the Last Resort. because when it reaches the point where i need to handle it, i just want it done. i don't care how.
so if i say, "you need to clean up your room" (repeatedly) and it doesn't get done and (sigh) i decide i need to handle it -- i may decide that apparently all that shit on the floor is unnecessary and give it all to Goodwill. i may decide that all that stuff you've put on the wall is the equivalent of a used Post-It note and tear that shit down and throw it away. or i may decide that you obviously cannot manage such a difficult-to-clean space and move your bed to the garage. (after all, concrete floors are easier to clean and you're that much closer to the laundry and garbage cans.)
so -- once i handle it, don't come to me with stupid questions like, "where is all my stuff?" or "what did you do with my X-box?" or "why's my bed in the garage?" i am recuperating from the exertion of Handling. (and possibly trying to decide how i want to decorate my new sitting room.) just go away and be happy in the knowledge that i have handled it for you.
oh, and you're welcome.
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I welcome your comments. I will try to read them and approve them quickly. ~ If you are going to be hateful, just be intelligent. I have no time or patience for raging idiots as long as bullets are cheap.