Two legs and a heart beat

You know, I really don't mind cleaning somedays. And that's how I felt today, until I was grabbing some laundry from the washing machine to put in the dryer. Jonathon walks by and opens the bathroom door, turning on the lights and fan, and goes, "Clean that up." and of course, somehow a dog got in there and now there's dog shit on the floor.

First off, what the hell is he so busy with that he can't clean it up? And if he already noticed it why didn't he already clean it instead of leaving it there until he could tell ME to do it? And secondly, WHAT THE FUCK?! Did you just TELL ME to clean that up? What happened to, "I'm tired from shovelling the driveway, can you please clean that up?" and it's not like I would have said no today, because I was in a good mood. But you don't just walk around TELLING me what to do, especially when you aren't doing shit yourself. FUCKFUCKFUCK.

I'm tired. They can clean that shit on their own, I don't care. Do their own fucking laundry, and clean the kitchen after they make fucking messes.