When a man learns that there might be a standard of cleanliness even higher than the one established by his wife and that even his wife is unsure of how to attain it, he begins to wonder how long other laws of the universe -- gravity, for example -- will hold. He begins to question certain basic chore dynamics in the household that have existed, well, since that first time he tried to do their laundry.
Ah, I remember the day well. Because after that, nothing in our chore life was ever the same. We had just bought a house together, and it was the first time he had ever done laundry in his own washer and dryer -- after years at the Laundromat and trips to mom or dad’s. He was sitting on the bed, just about done folding our recently joined washables, when I started unfolding all the towels Jason had just folded.
He watched in utter disbelief. I laid them all out flat on the bed, and began giving him a little tutorial on the proper method of folding towels, which involved some form of perfectly sensible terry-cloth origami. Instead of folding in successive halves, I wanted one-third of the towel to be folded in from either side (duh). He thought this was ridiculous, but nowhere near as ridiculous as the idea of unfolding already-folded towels -- and thereby sending a signal to my newlywed husband that it is more important that a chore be done a certain way than it is for him to actually do it.
I liked the idea of our doing the laundry together and found something kind of sexy about seeing his underwear mingled with my underwear.(We’ve since stopped letting our underwear consort with one another for fear of having a fifth child). It really bugs him when I go behind him after he makes the bed and re-arrange the throw pillows. He sighs and says, “Sorry, I guess I need to re-take Pillow Fluffing 101”.
Over the years, we've gone through this cycle with every chore I want him to do. Jason patiently endures my comments and helpful suggestions, then eventually gives up trying to adhere to my invisible standards. And yet I still get annoyed with him for not helping.
So I ask you -- what's a husband to do? He’s offered to hire someone to help me with the chores I won't let him do, but I can't let go of them. When we had a woman helping me clean, I would clean the house before she came. And besides, the only way that would work is if she could actually SORT the socks, or FIND the mates that have been eaten by the dryer -- which neither Jason or I have developed a skill for. So you can see it is actually my fault when he doesn’t help around the house or finds amazingly convenient chores that need to be done outside while I’m cleaning. And the less he does, the more it is my fault.
Unless, of course, this is all a massive rationalization, and an elaborately constructed excuse for male sloth and indolence. But, you know, I doubt it. Currently my house is wreck from hell with at least six loads of laundry to do just to get caught up, so frankly, I don’t care how it gets done as long as it gets done before the cats start peeing in the laundry basket.
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