You May Find This Hard To Believe-But I Am Not Perfect

Really, I’m not.   I probably can’t convince some of you, but sadly, it is very true.

It’s kind of funny really.  Well, no, it really isn’t.  Here’s the thing.  I have issues certain ways I like things.  For example, I like things clean.  Put in order.  Everything has it’s place, right?  Of course.  Not about everything, but about house stuff I have certain “things” that need to be adhered to.  Live with me a few years and you will catch on to the important points.

Husband is a teacher and is now “off” for the summer.  Vacation.   In fairness to Husband, he never really gets to “take the summer off”.  There always seems to be a project at hand.   Cut holes in the basement floor and put in new plumbing for a big bathroom?   Sure, he has the summer off!  Build a picket fence by hand to enclose the front yard?  Sure, he has the summer off!   He’s a very hard worker.  In everything he does.  He does so very much every single day.  He makes me a smoothie every morning.   And usually every evening.   He does 98% of the laundry (until we get the laundry room set up with some order to it, than I will GLADLY take that over).  Where ever we go together he drives (because my driving makes him “sick” and that’s a direct quote).  He is a saint among husbands.  This is just a very short and inadequate summary of his perfect Husbandness.   Oh, and he does 99% of the grocery shopping.  Come on, that alone earns him a gazibillion husband points.

Even when he doesn’t have the “summer off” he is still there in the morning when I leave, and he is home for a few hours before I get home.  If the situations were reversed I would be a better Wife.   So scheduling is really the issue.  Not me.

Once again he spent the day on projects while I was at work.  I come home, he takes the neighbor to dinner for helping him while I stay home and “work out”.   I finish my biking and think I ought to do the dishes before he gets home.   I don’t want him doing them.   I stand at the kitchen sink.   My brain nearly explodes.  It’s a double sink.  In the left hand side of the sink are dirty dishes.  In the right hand side of the sink are clean dishes.  On the counter to the far right are clean water bottles and lids setting nicely atop a dirty counter.   To the far left of the sink is what I think is a dirty mini grill.  A clean, glass storage bowl.   Dirty dishes.  And dirty counter top.  I start separating what is dirty from what is clean, not knowing if I’m right or not.   But he’s been blessed I’ve been blessed by our marriage long enough that  I’m on to his tricks.  He takes an item or two out of the “clean” sink and puts it away.  Claiming to not know where the other items go, that have gone in the same place for nearly two years now, so a hodge podge of things remain in the sink.

What do I do?

I work myself in to a near tizzy wondering why he doesn’t just leave everything clean in the clean sink.  Everything dirty in the dirty sink or on the counter on the dirty side?

Why does he torture me so!!!!!!

He gets home while I’m still cleaning and probably recleaning.  Bless his heart he picked me up a salad and told me he was going to use the mini grill to grill chicken for it because they didn’t have grilled chicken.  I told him no, he was not.  I said I’m not washing that grill just to have it get dirty so I can wash it right away again.  I’ll just put tuna on it.  But thank you for getting the salad!  It did look very good.


So what do I do?  I said “I don’t understand your method of cleaning.   You put what I thought was dirty (grill) there but it’s really clean, among dirty dishes, and clean things (glass bowl) you put clean stuff over there, and you leave clean things there.  And you leave dirty things there (pointing at the sink)”.

Fortunately, he knows I can be a bitch.

Fortunately, I know I can be a bitch.

Of course I tell him I’m just being a bitch.  Of course he already knows that.  He says he just doesn’t know what to say.  Which makes me laugh.  But I tell him, I’d rather you leave the sink full of clean dishes (because that makes more sense than spreading them in 3 places among dirty stuff) and leave dirty stuff in the dirty side, and I will clean it when I get home.

It’s a pretty simple solution.

And nooooooo, I would not yell at him for not doing something like the dishes.   I may be a bitch but I’m not one of those wives!  Though I have to admit I am starting to regret getting rid of the dishwasher so we could have more storage space.

In case you are wondering…of course I recognize how totally petty and ridiculous this is.  And this is my gift to Husband.   My recognition of what is important and what…is not.   This, was not important.  But I had to get it out of my head.   It’s out.  It’s gone.  Except for the eye rolling that lingers over there in the kitchen where I stood a while back freaking out about dirty and clean dishes that are just going to continue getting dirty and clean again.

But really, who wants to be perfect anyway.   Wouldn’t that be difficult for him to live with ?   In actuality it appears I could be doing him a favor.




This is just a very long winded way to pay my apologies to Husband by sacrificing my character to the world.