There’s a bit of a flurry of activity going on in the house right now. My parents went out to see a show with some of their friends. They planned to all come back here to the house when it was all done. My mother was counting on me to heat up some food that she prepared so that it would all be warm by the time they came back. So, a few hours ago, I turned on the stove and heated up the dinuguan and put the lasagna in the oven. It’s just my mother’s luck that I didn’t have any plans tonight and was able to do that for her.
When they arrived, I was scurrying around with her, getting the dishes and food items out on the table. It was mildly stressful. I wanted to make sure things reflected really well on her.
Even though this has been a relatively small social gathering for them, I find that I’m still stuck there working hard in the background trying to get things together. It’s like this every single time we have several guests. It’s not like I really have to, but if I don’t, I know I’m going to feel all guilty about it the next day. In some ways, I don’t mind. However, sometimes there’s that expectation that I’ll help that sort irks me. To be honest, I’m starting to resent feeling like I have to work my ass off. Well…it’s just something that I have to do in good conscience.
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