Dealbreakers. Everyone has them, just not the same ones or even at the same point. Most of the time Dealbreakers are in terms of romantic relationships, but they're also there in our friendships as well. I hit one of my major Dealbreakers in a friendship earlier this fall and that friendship has come to an end because of it. Now I'm hitting my limits with one of my most valued relationships, my engagement.

For years I allowed myself to be used by the people I was involved with. Hell, from the very moment I started dating I would allow it. Over the past few years I realized just how self-destructive those allowances were to both my relationships and me. So I started to work on myself to create a limit there. Specific ones. One of the biggest is the "maid" role.

I've frequently ended up being this caretaker of the men in my life. I'd wash their laundry, clean their homes, cook their meals, and manage all the sucky-ass minutiae that fill an adult life. I fucking hate it. I'm awesome at it. I fucking hate it. I am very talented in making sucky-ass work flow and go quickly. In main part because I've been doing it my entire life. I cannot remember a time that I wasn't washing dishes, cooking, grocery shopping, taking care of some child, doing all that unpaid, thankless work that has to be done.

I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the responsibilities falling on my shoulders. I'm tired of meeting the challenges tossed at me and it being taken for granted. I'm tired of washing clothes. I'm tired of cooking every night. I'm tired of making the grocery lists and doing the shopping. I'm tired of being the one on a bus running all over to get the needed things to make a home run smoothly. I'm tired of being the one to say that clean is good and can someone please help me clean. I'm tired of being the nagging bitch.

So this is my major dealbreaker. I'm ok with being utilized for the majority of the chores because I am good at them. Where the talents lie, use them, I figure. But my dealbreaker is when somehow, for any reason it's all me. When the responsibility is mine to maintain a home. I've never wanted to be the little housewifey, and frankly if I'm placed in that position I will leave. I'd rather starve than be nothing more than the highly maligned and ignored homemaker. (Which I am doing here, I know.)

So this morning when I get sighed at and told "I guess" in a highly put upon tone when I ask for help getting the heavy laundry basket downstairs; when I put away the laptop I asked Mike to put away before he left for work; when I start my day with tidying up after the other 2 people that live here with me -- I realize that I'm getting damn close to my breaking point. I feel like the hours a day I put in, and have put into making this home a clean, safe, comfortable place to be aren't noticed. It's all taken for granted and by extension I am taken for granted.

Maybe I'm wrong; maybe this is how it works. That one person takes the weight of the home and does the work. That I'm idealizing this concept of a family working together to create and maintain a clean, comfortable home. But if that's the way it works, it doesn't make me feel any less used.

I've done a lot of bending over the past year. It's hard to imagine now the kind of mess we lived in for the first couple years we were here. I wasn't willing to be the only person doing the chores, so I didn't and we lived in a mess. It took us a full day with 2 adults to clean up for the first apartment inspection. Dishes were piled all over the kitchen; there was barely room to sit on the couch. It was fucking nasty.

Then for some reason things got cleaned up and maintained. A lot of it has been me. I've been working my ass off to make sure that I do floors once a week, that I cook good, solid meals most nights, that I do laundry as it's needed, that I do a quick walk-through and tidy every couple days. I've just done it. I've turned it into a routine and just something that I do because it has to be done. Along with that we started a suggestion of Mike's that we do the evening routine of his family home -- Mom cooks dinner, kids and Dad wash dishes and clean up.

Lovely compromise. And honestly now that I think about it, it was the main reason I haven't resented the chores I have been doing daily. Except the dishes were only getting done consistently maybe twice a week and that pissed me off. I made sure I made dinner, but I'd also have to wash the tools I needed daily. So I finally said something clearly about it, last weekend. And Mike said he can't be consistent, that it would change who he is.

At the time of the discussion/fight about the dishes I suggested that I would take primary responsibility of all the chores but I expected help without snarkiness. (Well shit. That's why I'm pissed this morning. I got snarked at when I asked for help. Hrm.) Anyway, I think that was a mistake on my part. I basically volunteered myself up to be both maid and nagging bitch. Two roles that are Dealbreakers for me. Stupid.

I just don't know what else to offer or compromise here. All I really know for sure is if this continues I will lose my patience and that will be the end of it. I've been in too many relationships where I've ended up as caretaker of family and home to be blind to the end consequence of that responsibility. I get tired, I get angry, and I get hurt. And I walk away.

I'm no saint; I know this. I'm quite sure there are things I do or don't do that drive Mike batshit crazy. But Dealbreakers aren't about what we do, really -- they're about what we will accept in our lives and in our relationships.

Time to take half an hour and write for my poor neglected journal. Heh.

I jut finished up some morning chores including laundry. I finally washed the blankets and sheets that have been hanging out in an army mesh laundry bag for the past several months. I think that will allow me to cross another December chore off the list. Coming up from the laundry room I passed Trashy's apartment. (Formerly called White Trash until I really thought about the implications in needing to qualify "Trash" with White. Not cool.)

Trashy was evicted in November, I think. Since she moved out there's been the smell of paint in the building and various things thrown out -- including interior doors with several holes through them. I guess their yelling and screaming fights included breaking things. Nice. Gossip says she was evicted for non-payment of rent. I'm not surprised.

Background: I've had a hate on for this woman ever since she moved in. She would scream at her "husband" and her children using the nastiest curses. It was a rare day to not walk past her door and hear some fight going on. Once she threw a fit at me in the laundry room because she had to do laundry RIGHT THEN and I was in her way. I let her and then when I walked past her apartment on the way back up to mine I could hear her screaming about "That bitch!" -- I'm assuming me. There's more but you get the idea.

Anyway, when I walked past her former apartment I started to think about our landlady and how she treats her tenants. Currently Mike and I are putting pressure on to get a leak in the kitchen sink pipes fixed. I've used duct tape and sealed it as best I can, but I'm unwilling to put any real work into it. The leaking water destroyed the cupboard floor under it, and I'm assuming travelled into the apartment below us as well. Now we have a basin there to catch most of it. It's nothing major, but obviously something she should want fixed.

Not a chance in hell. I first mentioned the leak to her maintenance guy, Fritz about 10 months ago. I think Mike phoned about it shortly after, but I can't swear to it. I know every time I've seen her, Fritz or her son I've mentioned it. I didn't make a big deal about it because I know she doesn't do shit for maintenance here. Until the notice for the yearly inspection came.

See, once a year they come into my home and make notes and comments about the maintenance. Last year her son pointed out the mold growing around the porch doors and told us to clean it up and gave us a date he would come to re-inspect it to ensure we had cleaned it. Fucking rich coming from the assholes that take our money each month and do nothing for it. I cleaned it because it was a problem and it needed to be done no matter who pointed it out. Done. Fine.

Then comes this year's inspection, after a year of them ignoring my requests for a repair that they are legally required to do and not paying the interest owing on our last month's rent. They came and then they left with a letter detailing three items we expected completed ASAP -- A set of keys for Miss Sara, the money they owed us overdue by 5 months and the sink repaired.

Two letters later we have deduced the money they owed us from a rent cheque, we have keys and we have a leaking sink. Our last letter said "We would prefer not to involve outside authority in this matter but we shall if the repair isn't completed by December 26, 2003." and we haven't heard boo from them at all. Once we get back from Nova Scotia in January, I'm calling the maintenance division of the city and starting to play hardball.

I'm wondering why on earth this is required. Why do I have to threaten someone who gets almost ten thousand dollars from us a year to do a simple repair? Why is this needed? We're good tenants. We pay our rent in full and on time. We are exceedingly quiet. We stay out of their hair unless it's something they have to do for us, like the keys or the repair. Our apartment is in great condition. So why are we treated on the same level as Trashy?

You'd think after experiencing even once the mess a Trashy can leave behind them, a landlord would do everything in their abilities to keep the good tenants content and in their building. The only reason we haven't moved elsewhere yet is because I just don't want to and will therefore put up with a load of shit from the landlord. But that shouldn't be needed, damnit.

And with that, I'm at 30 minutes.

Not really a 30-minute entry since I'm just going to write until the bell goes for the laundry. More like a 20-minute entry. Anyways. I fell out of the habit of journaling over the past month. I've just been so focused on all the various need-to-dos for this insane month.

December sucks. So much time and energy gets focused on Christmas and expectations. I've gone insane again this year. I forgot the crushing disappointment from last year when the things I had worked so hard on making "perfect", weren't. We have a ton of presents for everyone under my sad tree. My sad, sad $20 tree.

The Christmas tree is a good example of how odd I get about Christmas. The past few years we've borrowed my Sister's Tree since she wasn't using it. This year she's living with Mr. Dorsey and he has kids, so they need the tree, obviously. I figured I'd find *my* tree this year and all would be good. Mike had finally agreed in principle that an artificial Tree is a better idea for apartment dwellers like us. It's a good year for a tree.

So what do I do? I leave it. I keep pushing it back until the inexpensive one I wanted was sold out and we're out of cash for a more expensive one. The money is gone on just-one-more gifts for everyone else. The time went on the same thing. I didn't realize what I had done until last week when I stood in the middle of the Christmas area at Zellers and hated all the trees available. I almost cried in sheer frustration.

I appear to still have a functioning imagination, though, so I decided on a solution. Not an elegant one, but a fun one. I decided to buy the cheapest tree I could find, and just drown it in lights and shiny things. It's damn tacky, but it's a tree. Next year I'll donate it somewhere so someone that can't afford the bigger fancier trees can get one, and buy the one we truly want. But this works for this year.

I think my problem is that I want to make sure that nobody feels the way I have on Christmases past -- left out, forgotten, overlooked. I don't remember specifics (and the specifics I do remember don't go online) but I remember the feeling so strong. Sitting somewhere watching people open these wonderful gifts, generous gifts, beautiful gifts with the full knowledge that there's nothing under the tree for me.

That's so against the rules, I know. But I care more about the bitter hurt that comes from that situation than I care about propriety. So I gift like a mad woman. I spent over a thousand dollars last year.

Time's up, but I just want to share something. Touching a stranger's hot pink satin thong because they can't be fucked to pay attention to how long it takes a load of laundry to dry sucks. It's called a timer and it costs a whole $1.15 at Dollarama. Invest in one and use it, you laundry room assholes.