Scylla walked around the castle, mopping and moping as she went. Too many bloody chores to be done, here– clean the floors, remove the bodies…
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to kill everyone inside, but she’d been hungry, and man-flesh was as good as any other kind. It had sated her, certainly, but to keep up appearances, there was far too much work to be done for her to dine on it every day.
Rumelis
Now I’m glad I was given chores by my parents because I think it made me a more responsible person, and I understand the value of money. Also the fact that we often work for no compensation. That’s a lesson in life now. More and more young people seem to have missed this life lesson. Therefore they enter life in the adult world as children
Brenda Wooten
Living had become a chore now. Sure, it was easy enough to get out of bed most of the days, but after that, things just lazily rolled by. Life had lost meaning. It was nothingness. It was a chore to keep up with friends and family, a chore to achieve sanity, a chore to feel safe or comfortable. Depression was a chore.
Cat
writing had become a chore—shes always hated chores. the only time her chores were even completed was if there was some sort of penalty for not doing so, or pay off for doing so—writing had fallen in the same category. no one to answer to, nothing to get done.
He hated doing chores. Well, that wasn’t true. What had become routine chores in themselves were never dull; but it was the part where he cleaned up after them that got to him. Brain matter didn’t come up out of carpet as well as he wished it did. But it was his fault for letting his defenses down long enough to only deal with the thing when it broke through the porch and made its shambling way into the house.
But it could be worse, he reasoned, yet again going over with carpet cleaner and grimacing. It could have been HIS brain splattered over someone’s floor and wall.
V
there were always so many chores to do, it seemed – sierra thought she was kind of like the high school version of cinderella where the evil stepmother and stepsisters were replaced with homework. at least it gave her an excuse to occasionally sigh and start singing rodgers and hammerstein and occassionally into the woods.
Scylla walked around the castle, mopping and moping as she went. Too many bloody chores to be done, here– clean the floors, remove the bodies…
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to kill everyone inside, but she’d been hungry, and man-flesh was as good as any other kind. It had sated her, certainly, but to keep up appearances, there was far too much work to be done for her to dine on it every day.
Now I’m glad I was given chores by my parents because I think it made me a more responsible person, and I understand the value of money. Also the fact that we often work for no compensation. That’s a lesson in life now. More and more young people seem to have missed this life lesson. Therefore they enter life in the adult world as children
Living had become a chore now. Sure, it was easy enough to get out of bed most of the days, but after that, things just lazily rolled by. Life had lost meaning. It was nothingness. It was a chore to keep up with friends and family, a chore to achieve sanity, a chore to feel safe or comfortable. Depression was a chore.
writing had become a chore—shes always hated chores. the only time her chores were even completed was if there was some sort of penalty for not doing so, or pay off for doing so—writing had fallen in the same category. no one to answer to, nothing to get done.
He hated doing chores. Well, that wasn’t true. What had become routine chores in themselves were never dull; but it was the part where he cleaned up after them that got to him. Brain matter didn’t come up out of carpet as well as he wished it did. But it was his fault for letting his defenses down long enough to only deal with the thing when it broke through the porch and made its shambling way into the house.
But it could be worse, he reasoned, yet again going over with carpet cleaner and grimacing. It could have been HIS brain splattered over someone’s floor and wall.
there were always so many chores to do, it seemed – sierra thought she was kind of like the high school version of cinderella where the evil stepmother and stepsisters were replaced with homework. at least it gave her an excuse to occasionally sigh and start singing rodgers and hammerstein and occassionally into the woods.