Yesterday I spent the day cleaning. A lot of women complain that their husbands don't help with the housework. I don't have that problem. When mine gets in the mood...look out!
Our guest room was the junk collector's room all spring and summer as our balcony was refurbished by the construction guys. Everything--potting soil, empty pots, lawn chairs--everything had to be taken off the balcony for most of the summer and it all ended up in the guest room.
Then in the way that things like that happen, gradually, other stuff made it's way there. The package of twenty rolls of t.p., the package of 18 rolls of paper towels, the pile of clean blankets, and so on. Where else are you going to put that stuff in a small apartment with no storage?
Well, now it's all in the living room. But that room is clean! Vacuumed! Ready for my daughter and granddaughters who are coming to visit on Thanksgiving.
Where will the rest of the stuff go? I have no idea, but the husband already made growling noises about working on the living room today. And that means that he'll be out here with a dust rag and vacuum cleaner pointing at stuff and hounding me "Where does that go?"
Do I dare say "I don't know?"
Nope. Cause if I do, he'll suggest that we haul it out to the dumpster. Sigh.
The kitchen is already clean enough to make you puke. I don't dare put a spoon in the sink because it'll mess up "his kitchen". Do you see what retirement will be like when he's a full time house hunk?
Do you know what's truly depressing? Dinner is already in the crock pot cooking. I kid you not. All done. It is twenty minutes after midnight on Sunday morning and dinner is cooking. The coffee pot's ready to perk first thing when we wake up. Breakfast is already set up. Argh!
I suppose it's a good thing that I write well so that I have a "reason" to let him be the house hunk. Oh, woe is me. I'm a failure as a woman. Terrible house goddess. Terrible. To tell the truth, I hate being a house goddess. So I'm thrilled that the house hunk is so organized. As long as he's willing, I'll be happy to be the writer.
Next month we will be married forty years. A friend asked me "How did you do it?"
Well...I let the house hunk clean whatever he wants to. He's a whiz in the bathroom...the kitchen...the bedroom...oops! I guess you don't want to know about the bedroom. Let's just say he's a swell research assistant. A happy one, too.
Anny
Don't forget to drop by Amarinda's place to check out her Sunday words of wisdom at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ and then of course stop by Kelly's place for her Sunday Quote at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ Blessings on your day!
Our guest room was the junk collector's room all spring and summer as our balcony was refurbished by the construction guys. Everything--potting soil, empty pots, lawn chairs--everything had to be taken off the balcony for most of the summer and it all ended up in the guest room.
Then in the way that things like that happen, gradually, other stuff made it's way there. The package of twenty rolls of t.p., the package of 18 rolls of paper towels, the pile of clean blankets, and so on. Where else are you going to put that stuff in a small apartment with no storage?
Well, now it's all in the living room. But that room is clean! Vacuumed! Ready for my daughter and granddaughters who are coming to visit on Thanksgiving.
Where will the rest of the stuff go? I have no idea, but the husband already made growling noises about working on the living room today. And that means that he'll be out here with a dust rag and vacuum cleaner pointing at stuff and hounding me "Where does that go?"
Do I dare say "I don't know?"
Nope. Cause if I do, he'll suggest that we haul it out to the dumpster. Sigh.
The kitchen is already clean enough to make you puke. I don't dare put a spoon in the sink because it'll mess up "his kitchen". Do you see what retirement will be like when he's a full time house hunk?
Do you know what's truly depressing? Dinner is already in the crock pot cooking. I kid you not. All done. It is twenty minutes after midnight on Sunday morning and dinner is cooking. The coffee pot's ready to perk first thing when we wake up. Breakfast is already set up. Argh!
I suppose it's a good thing that I write well so that I have a "reason" to let him be the house hunk. Oh, woe is me. I'm a failure as a woman. Terrible house goddess. Terrible. To tell the truth, I hate being a house goddess. So I'm thrilled that the house hunk is so organized. As long as he's willing, I'll be happy to be the writer.
Next month we will be married forty years. A friend asked me "How did you do it?"
Well...I let the house hunk clean whatever he wants to. He's a whiz in the bathroom...the kitchen...the bedroom...oops! I guess you don't want to know about the bedroom. Let's just say he's a swell research assistant. A happy one, too.
Anny
Don't forget to drop by Amarinda's place to check out her Sunday words of wisdom at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ and then of course stop by Kelly's place for her Sunday Quote at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ Blessings on your day!
