Cinderelly, Cinderelly

Parental units? MIA.

Party? Not so much. Whenever the rents go to watch my sisters' athletic abilities (yet another one of my glorious inadequacies), I'm offered two choices:
1) Attend the events, while being awkwardly crushed on by teenies. Not interested.
2) Stay home and recieve an excellently long list of chores, most of which will go unnoticed once completed.

Numero dos it is. The issue is that when I clean, I clean. I go all out and clean the house from top to bottommus, and to what end? It's just the way I am: do something and do it right the first time. So, I waste my entire day completing tasks that will be negated around one hour after everyone else returns from their escapade. Poor me, a middle-class white boy in Suburbia actually has to work? What the hell?

Today's List?
- Horribly belated Thank-You notes. I'm so grateful (only 22 left!)
- Mow the lawn
- Water the flowers
- Vaccum
- Laundry
- Dishes
...make the fire, fix the breakfast, wash the dishes, do the mopping...