How to Ditch Your Baggage
Step Four: Make Yourself Useful
It’s only been 24 hours and there’s already an exclusive list for Stalker Shay.
Shit Stalker Shay Does That Annoys Me
Can also be titled:
1. Things I Want to Punch Stalker Shay For
2. If Satan Was Going to Create My Personal Hell, It Would Include the Following
3. The Worst Possible Traits and Qualities a Person Can Have
4. How to Make Me Want to Off Myself
We’ll stick with the former.
Shit Stalker Shay Does That Annoys Me
1. He laughs too much
2. He talks at the dinner table
3. He cleans the dishes directly after the meal
4. And offers to clean up the kitchen
5. And offers to feed my dogs
6. Offers to put away leftovers
7. He offers to bring the cows in from the pasture
8. He offers to do everything
9. He’s too nice
10. He’s too helpful
Sucking up will get you everywhere, okay? And that’s a problem. Because the only place I want Shay to be is not on my side of the country. So if I let him clean up the dishes, and feed the dogs I’m going to want him to stay because no, after forcing pounds of food into my body, no I don’t want to go outside and deal with the farm. I could get used to having someone do those things for me.
The last thing I want to do is get used to Stalker Shay.
I need reasons to hate him.
It’s Day One of the seven-day trial run with Stalker Shay, and so far we are off to an awful start. My mornings are routine at this point:
1. Get up at 6:30
2. Roll out of bed
3. Throw a sweatshirt over the tee shirt and leggings I went to bed in
4. Grab some socks
5. Pull on some boots
6. Fumble my way downstairs
7. Go outside to start my rounds
The first thing I note at this god-forsaken hour is that all of my dogs are outside. So that’s weird because last time I checked none of them had any extraordinary skills like opening doors or even the opposable thumbs to do it. I move to the chicken coop, and check for eggs.
There aren’t any, and that’s weird, too. There’s feed already set out for them, and I know it’s not leftover from their dinner. It’s at this time that I’m starting to realize that a certain houseguest has overstepped his bounds. The sow and pig, Mona Lisa and Da Vinci respectively, are face deep in their breakfast when I get to their pen.
I pick up my pace as I move to the barn. The door’s ajar when I get there, and empty, as well. My three cows, Scary, Baby, and Posh Spice, aren’t there. Neither is my goat, Otis, or my two lambs, Bette (Davis) and Joan (Crawford). Beyond the barn, I can see that they’re all out in the pastures grazing, which is where I intended to put them.
Their stalls have been cleaned out, and fresh hay has been laid down. The barn has to be cleaned out every day. I told Stalker Shay that last night. It’s important to maintain a certain level of hygiene with farm animals. I read that in a book. I do my best, but I’ve got more animals than I, as one person, can physically maintain.
Still, I’m annoyed that Stalker Shay has beat me to my morning rounds.
I move to the stables, expecting to find the horses fed, and maybe even their stalls mucked. As I get closer, I can hear Stalker Shay talking, “Tink, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“It’s not,” I say as I walk in, catching him by surprise so that he jumps and turns to look at me. “And you really shouldn’t do that.” He’s standing in Tinkerbell’s stall with a shovel in hand. Tinkerbell makes a soft noise when she sees me and I grin. That’s right bitch, know your alliances.
“Do what?” he asks.
“Think,” I respond flatly as I walk up to the stall. I look at Stalker Shay, raking my eyes up and down his body. He shifts uncomfortably. “What time did you get up?”
He’s dressed practically, in jeans, and a flannel with some heavy boots. He’s already dressed and started his day and I’m still in my pajamas. There is a severe disconnect here.
His face is flushed pink and he fiddles with the handle of the shovel. “Four.”
“We need some ground rules,” I say crossing my arms.
He nods. “Okay. We can go over them over breakfast. I can make waffles.”
I shake my head. “Ground rule number one: you make your meals, I’ll make mine, and we don’t wait for each other to eat together. This isn’t the fucking Brady Bunch.”
One side of his mouth lifts and he says, “No, I agree, we’re definitely more of an Adam’s Family.”
“We are not a family,” I say quickly. “And suggest that ever again and I’ll smite you.”
He shrugs, still smiling somehow. I’m telling you guys, he’s immune to my attitude. “Agree to disagree.”
I make a face of shock and disgust. “Are you – what? No? There isn’t an agree to disagree. There’s just agree. We are not – you know what, whatever. Six more days.” I huff as I turn around and start walking away.
He laughs, and I can hear the sound of the stall door opening and shutting. “Wait! Where are you going?” He jogs to catch up to me, shoulder brushing mine signaling an extreme breach in personal space. I shirk away from him.
“I am going to eat breakfast and watch cartoons since you finished all my pre-morning chores.”
“Oh good, I love cartoons.”
“Too bad, I hate you.”
Stalker Shay makes Belgian waffles for breakfast and I have a bowl of cereal because solidarity and all that. The waffles smell unholy good but I can’t eat his food or like his cooking. Because who trial runs a chef, likes their cooking, but fires them after seven days? Exactly. No one.
He joins me in my TV room despite my protests but I make Alaska sit with me on the couch, so he’s stuck in the armchair, which keeps him a good distance away.
“So what’s on your agenda for today?” he asks when the episode of Spongebob ends, and the next one starts. It’s a DVD box set because there’s no cable. I’ve got a library of DVD’s now.
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “Mostly I just plan to stay as far away from you as possible.”
“Probably won’t be that easy since I’m your stalker, and all,” he responds.
Shit Stalker Shay Does That Annoys Me
11. Tries to be funny
I roll my eyes, getting up and heading towards the kitchen with my cereal bowl. Stalker Shay, unsurprisingly, follows. I set my bowl in the dishwasher and then move to the fridge, grabbing the paper I’d placed there with a magnet.
I set it on the island and point to it. “This is all the maintenance stuff that needs to be done. You’ll take half the tasks; I’ll take the other. Divide and conquer with minimal interaction between us.”
He glances at the list. “Most of these are two people jobs. The way I see it, our best option is to work together.” I go to protest but he beats me to it. “Look, I know you don’t like me and you don’t want to spend time with me. But for the integrity of your farm, and the safety, I think you have to get over it. You need a second pasture area. That’s more than a day’s work, and it’s going to take us both working together.”
“Okay, okay whatever fine we’ll work together. Don’t have a fucking conniption.” I grab the paper, and stick it back on the fridge before heading towards the door. “I’m going to change. I’ll meet you outside.”
Upstairs, Olivia Pope is lying on my bed. She’s my favorite to go to for advice. As I get dressed, I ask her what to do about Stalker Shay.
“He’s putting in the work, Liv. He really wants to live here I guess? With me? Which I don’t get? Because I’m basically the biggest bitch to him ever? And he just gets under my skin. He never shuts up. He’s always smiling. It’s like dude, the world ended. We don’t need that optimistic shit anymore, you know? I’m trying to make him hate me but it’s not working. He’s like a leech and my blood is poisoned so why the fuck is he still latching on?”
Olivia meows before jumping off the bed, and coming to rub against my legs as I pull on some shorts. “You don’t know anymore than I do,” I tell her with a laugh. I pick her up, and hold her in front of my face. “Here’s what we need to do: we have to make him want to leave. And how do we do that? By being the worst housemate ever.”
Thus we commence the next phase Operation Get Rid of Stalker Shay.
Shit Stalker Shay Does That Annoys Me
Can also be titled:
1. Things I Want to Punch Stalker Shay For
2. If Satan Was Going to Create My Personal Hell, It Would Include the Following
3. The Worst Possible Traits and Qualities a Person Can Have
4. How to Make Me Want to Off Myself
We’ll stick with the former.
Shit Stalker Shay Does That Annoys Me
1. He laughs too much
2. He talks at the dinner table
3. He cleans the dishes directly after the meal
4. And offers to clean up the kitchen
5. And offers to feed my dogs
6. Offers to put away leftovers
7. He offers to bring the cows in from the pasture
8. He offers to do everything
9. He’s too nice
10. He’s too helpful
Sucking up will get you everywhere, okay? And that’s a problem. Because the only place I want Shay to be is not on my side of the country. So if I let him clean up the dishes, and feed the dogs I’m going to want him to stay because no, after forcing pounds of food into my body, no I don’t want to go outside and deal with the farm. I could get used to having someone do those things for me.
The last thing I want to do is get used to Stalker Shay.
I need reasons to hate him.
It’s Day One of the seven-day trial run with Stalker Shay, and so far we are off to an awful start. My mornings are routine at this point:
1. Get up at 6:30
2. Roll out of bed
3. Throw a sweatshirt over the tee shirt and leggings I went to bed in
4. Grab some socks
5. Pull on some boots
6. Fumble my way downstairs
7. Go outside to start my rounds
The first thing I note at this god-forsaken hour is that all of my dogs are outside. So that’s weird because last time I checked none of them had any extraordinary skills like opening doors or even the opposable thumbs to do it. I move to the chicken coop, and check for eggs.
There aren’t any, and that’s weird, too. There’s feed already set out for them, and I know it’s not leftover from their dinner. It’s at this time that I’m starting to realize that a certain houseguest has overstepped his bounds. The sow and pig, Mona Lisa and Da Vinci respectively, are face deep in their breakfast when I get to their pen.
I pick up my pace as I move to the barn. The door’s ajar when I get there, and empty, as well. My three cows, Scary, Baby, and Posh Spice, aren’t there. Neither is my goat, Otis, or my two lambs, Bette (Davis) and Joan (Crawford). Beyond the barn, I can see that they’re all out in the pastures grazing, which is where I intended to put them.
Their stalls have been cleaned out, and fresh hay has been laid down. The barn has to be cleaned out every day. I told Stalker Shay that last night. It’s important to maintain a certain level of hygiene with farm animals. I read that in a book. I do my best, but I’ve got more animals than I, as one person, can physically maintain.
Still, I’m annoyed that Stalker Shay has beat me to my morning rounds.
I move to the stables, expecting to find the horses fed, and maybe even their stalls mucked. As I get closer, I can hear Stalker Shay talking, “Tink, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“It’s not,” I say as I walk in, catching him by surprise so that he jumps and turns to look at me. “And you really shouldn’t do that.” He’s standing in Tinkerbell’s stall with a shovel in hand. Tinkerbell makes a soft noise when she sees me and I grin. That’s right bitch, know your alliances.
“Do what?” he asks.
“Think,” I respond flatly as I walk up to the stall. I look at Stalker Shay, raking my eyes up and down his body. He shifts uncomfortably. “What time did you get up?”
He’s dressed practically, in jeans, and a flannel with some heavy boots. He’s already dressed and started his day and I’m still in my pajamas. There is a severe disconnect here.
His face is flushed pink and he fiddles with the handle of the shovel. “Four.”
“We need some ground rules,” I say crossing my arms.
He nods. “Okay. We can go over them over breakfast. I can make waffles.”
I shake my head. “Ground rule number one: you make your meals, I’ll make mine, and we don’t wait for each other to eat together. This isn’t the fucking Brady Bunch.”
One side of his mouth lifts and he says, “No, I agree, we’re definitely more of an Adam’s Family.”
“We are not a family,” I say quickly. “And suggest that ever again and I’ll smite you.”
He shrugs, still smiling somehow. I’m telling you guys, he’s immune to my attitude. “Agree to disagree.”
I make a face of shock and disgust. “Are you – what? No? There isn’t an agree to disagree. There’s just agree. We are not – you know what, whatever. Six more days.” I huff as I turn around and start walking away.
He laughs, and I can hear the sound of the stall door opening and shutting. “Wait! Where are you going?” He jogs to catch up to me, shoulder brushing mine signaling an extreme breach in personal space. I shirk away from him.
“I am going to eat breakfast and watch cartoons since you finished all my pre-morning chores.”
“Oh good, I love cartoons.”
“Too bad, I hate you.”
Stalker Shay makes Belgian waffles for breakfast and I have a bowl of cereal because solidarity and all that. The waffles smell unholy good but I can’t eat his food or like his cooking. Because who trial runs a chef, likes their cooking, but fires them after seven days? Exactly. No one.
He joins me in my TV room despite my protests but I make Alaska sit with me on the couch, so he’s stuck in the armchair, which keeps him a good distance away.
“So what’s on your agenda for today?” he asks when the episode of Spongebob ends, and the next one starts. It’s a DVD box set because there’s no cable. I’ve got a library of DVD’s now.
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “Mostly I just plan to stay as far away from you as possible.”
“Probably won’t be that easy since I’m your stalker, and all,” he responds.
Shit Stalker Shay Does That Annoys Me
11. Tries to be funny
I roll my eyes, getting up and heading towards the kitchen with my cereal bowl. Stalker Shay, unsurprisingly, follows. I set my bowl in the dishwasher and then move to the fridge, grabbing the paper I’d placed there with a magnet.
I set it on the island and point to it. “This is all the maintenance stuff that needs to be done. You’ll take half the tasks; I’ll take the other. Divide and conquer with minimal interaction between us.”
He glances at the list. “Most of these are two people jobs. The way I see it, our best option is to work together.” I go to protest but he beats me to it. “Look, I know you don’t like me and you don’t want to spend time with me. But for the integrity of your farm, and the safety, I think you have to get over it. You need a second pasture area. That’s more than a day’s work, and it’s going to take us both working together.”
“Okay, okay whatever fine we’ll work together. Don’t have a fucking conniption.” I grab the paper, and stick it back on the fridge before heading towards the door. “I’m going to change. I’ll meet you outside.”
Upstairs, Olivia Pope is lying on my bed. She’s my favorite to go to for advice. As I get dressed, I ask her what to do about Stalker Shay.
“He’s putting in the work, Liv. He really wants to live here I guess? With me? Which I don’t get? Because I’m basically the biggest bitch to him ever? And he just gets under my skin. He never shuts up. He’s always smiling. It’s like dude, the world ended. We don’t need that optimistic shit anymore, you know? I’m trying to make him hate me but it’s not working. He’s like a leech and my blood is poisoned so why the fuck is he still latching on?”
Olivia meows before jumping off the bed, and coming to rub against my legs as I pull on some shorts. “You don’t know anymore than I do,” I tell her with a laugh. I pick her up, and hold her in front of my face. “Here’s what we need to do: we have to make him want to leave. And how do we do that? By being the worst housemate ever.”
Thus we commence the next phase Operation Get Rid of Stalker Shay.