Steve's having another take away for his tea (I'm not having anything) and he told me he was getting fish and chips that would come in a carrier bag.
It's just been delivered.
I answered the door.
One of the 4 boxes broke and his nuggets fell on the floor.
I had to pick them up.
Steve just sat on the sofa while I was struggling.
Well not any more.
From now on, he deals with his own rubbish, his own recycling and answers the door himself too.
I'm fed up of being his slave and getting the blame for Steve's crap.
As of now, I look out for number one.
As of now I'll go to bed when I like, get up when I like and that's that.
Steve can sort out his own carer, his own food and his own fucking watch. Tough shit if he doesn't like it.
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