Daily Domestic Unrest
"No! Do it yourself!"
Let the games begin!
I assume the position:
arms folded against my chest,
head tilted at a jaunty angle
mouth a slash, no words escape my lips.
Left eyebrow raised in a look of disbelief,
eye squnted closed as if I'm winking
my right eye, staring daggers.
I sit and wait for the verbal assault to end
"Stop looking at me like that!"
4:06 pm - The dishwasher gets unloaded,
wasting sixty precious seconds of his free time.
I remain the Queen Mother of Mean, the Tyrant of Reasonable Requests.
This interlude was courtesy of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop (Incorporate the phrase "stop looking at me like that" into your post).