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I'm getting a little fed up with J at this point, and by "a little", I really mean a lot. I just want my living room back. It wasn't so bad when he was doing well at keeping the place neat, cleaning, dishes, etc. But he's been slacking, in favour of going out drinking and whatever the fuck else he's been doing. And even then, it was somewhat tolerable, because he's at least been gone a lot. Lately, he's here more, and N has been here most of the time, too... although, I can't even complain about N. J and N came in this morning, J was drunk off his ass, and N was back behind him miming all sorts of shit. They got that sofa bed pulled out, N got J into it, and went into the kitchen and did the dishes.

The other evening, I was extremely irritated because it was my night off, and J and N had come in and had the sofa bed pulled out by SIX PM. WHAT? B and I wound up going for a fairly long drive before we wound up just coming back here and going the fuck to sleep. (I'd had that 40 hour awake stretch, followed by maybe five hours' sleep, so, I probably needed to sleep.) Today, they woke up around 2:30, as did I. I hoped they had plans for the night... they do. Sitting here, watching shit on our TV.

And I thought, "Well, I guess maybe I can deal with that, as long as that fucking couch goes into couch mode."

Shortly after that, J said to N, "I really don't think I'm even gonna fold up this bed. I'm probably not even gonna get dressed."

NO. For real, if they leave this house for a few like they're talking about, I'll fold that fucking couch up myself. I'm not being a superbitch yet, but the hints are starting to roll. We each have a TV table on which our laptops and other assorted things sit. His gets moved when that bed comes out and his things wind up on mine. Yesterday, I recaptured my table, tossing everything of his onto the love seat. When he cleared it off to pull it out, most of it didn't end up back on my table, but several things did. Something tells me that if I fold that bed up, whatever isn't mine on this table will end up back over there again.

Also this morning, when he said he didn't have to be back to work until Tuesday evening, I may have said, "So, if you have all this free time, I'd think you might see about starting on clearing out that other room like you keep saying you're gonna do." He looked at BF, who said, "I'm only waiting for you to tell me when you want to do it." B (who also doesn't live here, but makes a point to do things around here, I suppose, to "earn his keep") has been getting pissed off about him, too. That was pretty hilarious to me, him going off like that. I appreciated the show, I suppose. It at least ensures I know that I'm not overreacting; that it is as frustrating as I've made it out to be. BF hasn't really validated it much. I think he's feeling it, but he's been more silent on the issue. (That's usually more me.)

Something has to give. I want him out of my living room. If he wants to work on that bedroom idea, great. Otherwise, get the fuck out of my house. I want my living room back.

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