Expectations

Here is a short discourse on the number of expectations leveled on me from the start of the morning every single day - where's the clean towels? what is there to eat? is there fresh coffee made? are you going to make breakfast? what are we doing today? are we going anywhere? can I...(fill in the blank)? will you do me a favor - followed by whatever you can imagine. And so on and so on and so on.
When I try to push back and get others to assist me with the division of household responsibilities - I get very little in response. In fact, I get disdain for my presence because I have expectations of them - but they are the majority and I am one.
My husband got up this morning - and after years of this has not figured out why it isn't funny to me. I have my arms in soapy water up to my elbows and am trying to clean out the refrigerator, and wash dishes. He wanders in and says, "Where's breakfast? I thought with all the beating and banging in here you surely would've cooked something." Then he tries to turn it all around on me while I am fuming and make it look like he was just joking and I'm crazy, even though I've attempted since 1988 to establish that I did not find this remotely funny first thing in the morning.
Sorry - hardcore blogging here - this is the reality of my life.
Then he grabs poptarts and says, "I'll just scrounge like I do every morning." (wouldn't you say the fact that there are poptarts in the cabinet means that someone isn't left to scrounge????) And then a few minutes later, "Can you I at least get me a cup of coffee?"
This is a man who has not noticed that I have been struggling just to maintain anything in the last week or so. I actually spoke the words to him last night - I.am.depressed. I know he doesn't notice, but articulating it to him only increases the frustration as absolutely nothing will change in what he expects of me, nor will he lend a hand to make sure I don't get buried. He only notices the shortcomings and failures in a critical sense.

I don't understand that while he gets up every single morning of his life and is afforded the luxury of thinking of only himself - what he'll eat, what he'll wear, what he'll do - why I have to make the world the way he and the kids want it? He goes to work most days - but everything else - literally every single flipping thing falls to me.
Why do I have to be the Proverbs 31 woman and he gets to be Archie freakin' Bunker??????
I don't understand why I am expected to be Martha Stewart, Pamela Anderson, (I am not even close to either!) a doctor, physician, a gourmet cook, lawyer, accountant, etc. etc. etc. all rolled into one. The expectations are growing every day, and I am crumbling under them.
I am about to make a run for the hills - the Blue Ridge Mountains that is, and I'll probably never come back. It isn't Texas, it's my life. I tried to get away by coming here, and it just followed me. I left the wrong things in the dust.