Today I have to remember to record Doctor Who for The Housemate. Just because he’s at work. This means I have to stop whatever it is I’ll be doing at whatever time it is on to go and do that. How incredibly inconsiderate of him is that?
A bit, that’s how much.
Okay, it’s not, but still.
He can be inconsiderate sometimes. Just because I have the bigger bedroom and can actually hang out in it, The Housemate seems to think that makes the living room his. If I should decide to use MY television, he stares at me as if I’ve slapped him. Yet he will quite happily sit there playing console games while I’m trying to concentrate on… well… anything else in the room. And he plays console games that involve collecting an infinite number of pointless shiny things and playing the same level over and over and over and over until I’m driven NUTS. And if he isn’t playing those, he’s playing ones where you run around blowing people’s brains out. Which I find incredibly disturbing. AND he never lets me play, just because I’m rubbish.
Whereas when I play one of my games, he insists this makes me a ‘Rodney Rooser’ (to rhyme with loser).
I’ve no idea why.
Tune in next week for The Birthday Post.
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