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Domestic Control

December 29, 2011 Fun 1 Comment

Ah, the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. A wonderful time for catching up on household projects (and trashy TV), sneaking in a few extra workouts (and chocolates), and midday sex (not really).

Greg has the week off and that means he’s home all the time. In fact, he’s home more than I am because I’m generally flitting about to a play date here or a cocktail hour there. He spends a lot of time outside working on the garage, but that actually makes things accumulate worse on the inside.

When I’m home, the house is in spit-spot shape. Never a thing out of place. This pleases me greatly and makes me feel very accomplished. Yes, I do realize this is a thin veil that makes me feel like I have control over my life. I’ve already been to therapy over this, so let’s just move on.

Unfortunately, Greg and I have very different ideas about what a “clean house” is. We don’t even agree on the definition of “tidy” in this context. I’m admittedly a little crazy when it comes to this stuff, but I CAN.NOT.STAND counter clutter. Greg doesn’t even see it. My shoulders are tensing now, just thinking about what our two main countertops look like right now.

His glass/bowl/spoon will always be “put in the dishwasher later.” Only I’ve never been able to wait long enough to see how long “later” actually is. More than one day, which is too late for my taste.

He knows where the beer is kept, he knows where the opener is kept, he knows where the trash is for the lids, and he knows where we keep our recyclables. And yet, the bottle caps accumulate on the counter and the empty bottles accumulate on the counter and the opener sits on the counter. “I’ll get it all later.” See above for my reaction to this.

He’ll do after-meal clean-up, but he generally leaves at least one dish (it’s usually the dirtiest pot) and never wipes the counters. The horror!!

He sometimes changes clothes a few times a day (depending what he’s doing), leaving whatever clothes he doesn’t want to wear somewhere that isn’t where they go. He’ll walk in the back door and take his pants off, then walk to the bedroom and get new ones. The discarded pants remain crumpled at the back door. He leaves dirty socks EVERYWHERE. Usually on the counter.

It’s nice having him home to chat during the day and have lunch together. We’ve even done our workouts together this week. I actually feel a little guilty about how relieved I’ll be when he goes back to work so that I can be the master of my domain again, without being the nagging wife cleaning up after him all the time. I know he isn’t doing it on purpose, and that makes this my problem and not his. But still…

Tell me I’m not the only one who battles this!

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