Early warning: This is going to be a long one. I won’t take it personally if you skip right past it.

“Dear roommates: The dish fairy does not exist! Please put your dishes in the dishwasher!”

My roommate wrote that on the pantry door mirror (it’s where we write everything, in dry-erase markers). It’s pretty obviously directed at me—our other roommate is obsessive about keeping a clean house, and has never once failed to put her dish in the dishwasher.

This particular roommate and I are less obsessive, and we’re both guilty of leaving our dishes on the table, or on the counter, or in the sink. We’re both clean people, but we grew up in families where you eat dinner, put the dishes on the counter or the sink, and worry about them later. For my family, dinner was sort of a ritual—we ate together, and for the next hour or so we’d sit at the dinner table or on the couch and talk. It was never awkward, never too personal… just a nice conversation about anything that popped up, until we turned the TV on or went our separate ways.

Dishes were done later that night, or the next day. Someone would get to them, eventually. It wasn’t something you had to worry about.

It’s not that I’m against keeping the house clean; with a new puppy around, we have to be pretty vigilant to keep things out of her reach or they’ll become a new chew toy. We have to vacuum once or twice a week because the dog gets into the turtle’s cage and gets woodchips all over the house.

I’m usually the one who ends up vacuuming.

The night before my roommate had written that on the mirror, I had brought my glass into the kitchen before going to bed, looked at the (sizable) pile of dishes on the counter, and made a note to do the dishes the next day. I woke up and they’d already been done, and the note was already written.

Thursday night I painted my room. We went out to Home Depot at around 8:30pm and I started emptying my room and cutting in and painting. I didn’t finish until 3:00am. I had had to move all of my furniture into the spare bedroom to paint, and I still had to do another coat of paint before I could move the furniture back in. The next day they asked me if I planned on getting all of my stuff back into my room.

Then they left, and I started moving my furniture back in. I got about halfway done when I got a call from my mom and had to meet her. I left the furniture the way it was, jumped in the shower, and walked out the door. I came home to “Still haven’t gotten all your stuff put away?”

Today, I was exhausted. I couldn’t sleep last night (that’s happening more and more) and I looked forward to a quiet Saturday with the dog. Instead I got ready, and got on the bus to pick up a couple of things I needed. On my way there I found out my roommates had taken the dog for the day, and I returned home to find woodchips all over the floor, which I vacuumed.

At about 5:00pm, I texted one of the girls and asked if they were getting dinner while they were out—do I need to get my own food? Are they bringing some home for all of us? What’s the plan? No response.

At 7:00pm I decided to just order some food. They got home at 7:15, and had already eaten dinner. They wanted to go to an 8:00 movie, but my dinner hadn’t even arrived yet. We would have to go to the 10:45 showing.

After I ate my dinner, I got a very strained “Can you please go clean your stuff up before we leave?”

I went upstairs and moved the 2 things that were left in the spare bedroom into mine.

I went back downstairs, and we all started talking and laughing and hanging out. I made a joke, and one of my roommates goes “Oh my god, that’s so funny!” which would be good, except for the fact that it was totally sarcastic.

Then I paid for all 4 of us to go to the movie ($50). My roommate bought me a bottle of water, $4. Then we came home and I unloaded the dishwasher.

I mean, maybe it’s just that time of the month or whatever, but can everybody relax? I cook dinner at the very least twice a week, I go to the grocery store nearly every single day, and I pay for all of it. I’m the only one home during the day so I have to take the dog for a walk, and clean up after her. I’m constantly paying for all of these little (and not so little) treats for all of us.

These girls are my best friends, and I love living here. But sometimes I feel like nobody realizes that even though yes, I’m at home all day, I still take care of all of these little things that keep the house running. Could you imagine if I didn’t go to the grocery store tomorrow to get Coke and parmesan cheese, which we’re out of? Next time we had pasta there would be a huge problem because we don’t have parmesan cheese, and what are we going to do next Friday when we’re starting to pre-drink and someone wants a rum-and-coke?

No, I don’t go to work or school all day.

But that doesn’t mean I spend all day sitting on my ass in front of the computer. It doesn’t mean I do nothing all day. It doesn’t mean I’m not pulling my weight.

End rant.