NOT MY JOB

Taking out the bin was never meant to be my job.

Nor was taking rubbish bag to said bin.

It was an unspoken rule from day one. He Tarzan, me Jane.

But lately there’s been a shift. See there are only so many fruit bar packets and apple cores you can shove into a flip top bin. I can’t tell you exactly how many that is, but if you're me and you push it, it's somewhere in the vicinity of a shitload. And I have no choice of late but to get off my fat arrse and take it out myself.

I make lunches 5 nights a week which I DETEST. I do it. As Mr Harts housekeeper used to say, “I no complain”

I wash the clothes, I dry the clothes, I change the beds, I vacuum the floors, I mop the floors and I clean the toilet that sees action from 3 males on a regular basis.

But the bins get to me. Can’t tell you why. I will now go play myself the worlds smallest violin and get over my first world problem.