CXCIII: J'en ai marre

I first learned these words in a bubbly French pop song circa summer 2003. It so doesn't sound like it means "I'm fed up"...but that's the definition.

Disclaimer (if you couldn't tell already): I'm going to be a bit ranty today.

I've actually mellowed out quite a bit now, but the peak of my frustration was perhaps at two points: going to Costco with my homestays (big mistake -- never let them choose whatever food they want because it will cost you $75 and probably only last for 3 days); and when the older homestay wore my shoes outside without asking.

Oh, and when I was asked if I was going to yoga tomorrow morning again because they expected me to prepare their breakfast.

No you didn't.

But you did.

They're very nice ladies and I guess I can see where they're coming from. They pay a lot of money for lodging and meals (how much exactly I don't know as it doesn't come to me, nor do I expect it to since my parents are retired; and, since we're on the subject, on past occasions my mom has said we don't even profit much since the food costs are so high), so the assumption may be that all of these meals are prepared for them. But our most recent history suggests that only dinner is served--they can help themselves to anything else, which they usually do.

I have sitting on my cluttered counter a box of chocolate lover's cookies (three types), three of which will be used for after-lunch snacks per person per day; two trays of 6 huge muffins each (one blueberry, one lemon poppy seed) for breakfast; lots of sliced cheese for sandwiches; a huge tray of orange juice boxes; sliced turkey meat, bread, and strawberries. I will not touch any of this food except the strawberries. If any are left tomorrow. One of them wanted a $10 pack of cherries and I said no.

I must sound like a Class A B*tch and I don't blame you for judging me so. I am extraordinarily touchy when strangers live in the house with me for extended periods of time. I just like home to be my personal, private space. And I'm sure you'd agree. But I have to remind myself that this is for my parents' financial benefit and that I only have one more full day to deal with this because after Wednesday night (my parents' arrival), it is all on them. I will make myself scarce. Or a hermit.

Apparently in Korea, when you live with someone you can start wearing their shoes. When she realized that this was culturally incorrect here (it is, isn't it? I'm not being obsessive-compulsive?), she apologized. And all was restored in my world.