Our thoughts on where it is reasonable to leave one’s pants, why it matters that the front door is both shut AND locked before we go to bed, and uses for the fridge besides beer storage are just some of the matters we’ve had to work through in the interests of making this cohabitation a success.
But what amazes me most is the vast difference between what we each notice when it comes to the running of the house. Namely in his case nothing and in my case everything.
If the bathroom needs cleaning, the bed needs changing, the front door is wide open and a family of beavers is taking up residence – this guy is none the wiser. So thank goodness he has me to point it all out for him. (Although there is a chance he feels differently.)
Without consciously deciding to, I have become his shadow. Wherever he goes in this house, I am just a few steps behind, ready to clean up, replace or switch off whatever item he’s most recently come into contact with.
Take weekday mornings. We each have a routine to get us ready for work. The only difference, besides make-up application (me) and facial shaving (mainly just him) is that a central part of my routine involves undoing most of his.
Each day he gets up and goes downstairs to iron a shirt whilst I wait upstairs and take bets on how many lights he will decide he needs to assist him with this task. Will it be just the hall light, or the hall light and the kitchen light, or, for reasons only he knows, perhaps he may also require the lounge lamp AND the bathroom light too. Whatever figure he settles on, that will be the number of lights I need to switch off when I come down. And the iron too.
And then there’s the laundry. During Saturday morning’s scrape around the bedroom for a load to chuck in the machine, I happened upon a nice little pile of discarded socks he’s been building up at his side of the bed. I fear it would have taken Sockmageddon when a mound of cotton had almost suffocated us in our sleep before he had deemed it time to give them a spin. But thankfully I, the Bruce Willis of this tale, am here to jump in and save the day.
I could go on all day. And whilst it is fun to gently mock, who is it we should really be laughing at here? Is it he man who gets to work each day in a nice, crisply ironed shirt without stressing about how many tins of tomatoes or millimetres of cheese are left in the fridge? Or is it the girl who uses the ‘Notes’ function on her phone specifically to keep a record of such things? Don’t think I can’t hear you giggling.
It would of course be nice to have a little more help around the house, a little more noticing and household initiative and perhaps I should ask for it.
But whilst we complain, there’s nothing us anal-retentives like more than being in control so if our beloveds did start being as organised as we are, they would just get on our nerves; and much more than any left-on light ever could.
You can’t have it both ways so I’d best just put a sock in it. There’s plenty here for me to choose from.