Recently the house hunk's hours at work have been cut down to 32/four days a week. He and his work partner made a deal where they have alternating four day weekends. Now any woman who has spent very much time with her significant other underfoot can pretty much figure out what comes next.
The hunk and I have had discussions about my need to work--even if he's home for four days in a row! Day before yesterday he took a notion to clean the bedroom. Now I suppose I should make it clear that the bedroom is his room. His office, his closets, his workshop, etc. All that I do in that room is sleep...and the "usual". My clothing, computers, belongings are all in other rooms. So I really don't have much input about that actual room.
Anyway, he decided to do a deep cleaning and rearranging. It took him most of the day. It was fine. He was entertained and I actually, almost had a chance to write--except for one thing. He had to show me every little pea-pickin' thing he came across that belonged to me.
Chapstick. Dirty sock. Single slipper. Bag of cough drops. You get the idea.
A prudent man would collect everything in one place and then drop them off on my desk. But as we know, few men are prudent. They work in a more linear fashion. So each item necessitated that he interrupt my work to deal with the very important item.
The second problem with his cleaning program was that he piled everything on the bed so he could vacuum. As I mentioned earlier in the week, my life comes to a screeching halt every day because my brain takes a break. Normally I deal with this disconcerting problem by taking a nap. I take a nap on the bed. That very same bed that was piled high with clothes hampers and other junk.
When I don't get my nap, I tend to get cranky from fighting to stay awake and reasonably coherent. By six o'clock, I was exceedingly cranky. You may imagine my reaction when he announced that he was done with the bedroom and would like to discuss which room he would begin on next.
Fortunately, he went back to work yesterday. Otherwise I might have had to bury him in the back yard. That would have been tough. It was raining all day and there was about three inches of water in our backyard "lake". Most inconvenient.
As a precaution, I drew up a "honey-do" list for the next time he's home. I figure if he's short-listed for another month that the house will be spotless.