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My wife recently took a month-long trip to visit some family members overseas. That meant I had 30 DAYS to unleash window-rattling belches at will, to clip my toenails at the kitchen table, and to blow my nose on any dish towel I wanted.
It was heaven on earth.
But, of course, all good things come to an end, so on the morning of her return, I decided I had better spruce up the place. (In other words, get rid of any evidence of the fun that took place.)
That afternoon, my bride came home and was briefly impressed by my housekeeping until she took a closer look and………. discovered dirty dishes crammed in the oven, dirty laundry shoved under the bed, and all the dead plants I forgot to water hidden in my closet.
It would be a bit of an understatement to say my spouse was not impressed. I freely admit I found her lack of appreciation for my efforts hurtful. (I am somewhat sensitive when it comes to my limited housekeeping skills.) However, I learned a valuable lesson from her reaction. The next time I clean, I need to find better hiding places.
The problem is that on the extremely rare occasions when I do something nice for my wife, it always makes her suspicious. (And with good reason, I might add.) But I like to think of it as a quid pro quo situation.
For example, the other day, against my better judgment, I unloaded the dishwasher – without being threatened. (There is a first time for everything.) I hoped that type of grand gesture would prompt my bride to give me a richly deserved reward. I suggested that letting me fly to Las Vegas for a wild, no-holds-barred three-day weekend with my friends would be an appropriate thank you.
Although it seemed like a fair trade to me, my spouse made it EMPHATICALLY clear that she felt otherwise.
Which left me confused. Is there never appropriate compensation for enduring the mind-numbing drudgery of performing menial household tasks? I mean, a few days of fun and relaxation in one of the most popular adult vacation destinations in the world doesn’t seem like too much to ask. After all, that dishwasher was FULL.
But, as usual, my wife seemed to delight in pouring salt on an open wound by heartlessly pointing out that, despite my good intentions, I emptied the dishwasher incorrectly because I put the pots, pans, dishes, and glasses back in the wrong spots. (Like that really matters.)
I must say, her unwarranted criticism hardly provides the necessary incentive I require to be properly motivated to ever lift a helping finger again.
As for my bride’s displeasure with my job performance, I can only say, “YOU GET WHAT YOU PAY FOR!”
Marital Madness 