I have to moan about this here, because if I don't let off steam I'm going to cause a massive row and that'll be the end of the week away.
I begged Pete to keep on top of the housework while I worked two days, so that tonight I wouldn't have to pack for 5 people AND do a full house clean (we leave at 8am tomorrow). I got home today and the house was a flea pit. When I walk in I discover that Isobel has squirted washing up liquid into her eyes and is screaming, so I put her in the bath. Then the laundry that I made a very specific point to Pete this morning about hanging out was, you guessed it, still in the washing machine. I have a huge list of packing, ironing and sorting to do tonight and in the morning, and he is sat there watching cricket. I asked him about 5 times to please take the guinea pigs and bird to my Mums, and I have to moan progressively louder and louder until I'm accused of being a nag and he shouts at me. I told him he was being unfair, and he just blew his top. He drives me fucking crazy when he's like this. I feel like not bothering and letting him pack and load up the car, but do you know what? He just wouldn't bother. We'd still be sat here at 9pm tomorrow, no holiday in sight. If I don't fucking do it then it won't get done. It's as simple as that. I wish the boot could be on the other foot for five minutes. I'd love to see how he would feel after working all day and having to face this pile of shit when he gets in. When he finishes work he gets a cup of tea, his dinner, and an evening off in front of the TV.