Evidence #1: The Mystery of How Laundry Happens
I was told early on in our engagement that I should staunchly refuse to do any housework or compromise my slovenly ways– at least this is how I interpreted warnings that I shouldn’t overcommit myself to certain tasks because men are like Chinese finger traps and once you give an inch you are NEVER getting it back.
Because of this, we still do our laundry separately. The only exception are whites because I wear the same five outfits over and over and don’t have enough to make a full load. So every Sunday I dig out his white socks and undershirts to launder with my own, then dump them in a clean-but-wrinkled pile at the foot of the bed so he can spend the next five days putting them away.
All this time I thought that having me wash his whites = a bonus to him getting to be married to me— But as we did pre-travel laundry for our trip to Ecuador, I noticed him throwing his whites in with the rest of his clothes.
“Wait,” I said. “You don’t want your whites to get all dingy.”
“No it’s cool. I always wash them together and they’re still super white.”
All this time he had no idea I was the source of the clean clothes that keep showing up on his side of the bed.
Evidence #2: The Mystery of What Body Wash Is
Alex washes his hair everyday (weird, I know) whereas I justify buying expensive shampoo by only using it once a week. This worked great until Alex ran out of whatever store brand shampoo he was using and decided to finish mine off– which I didn’t realize until I was already in the shower, hair drenched, and fully committed. I had to drip all over the bathroom floor as I scavenged for a shampoo sample to savagely tear open with my teeth. Later, when Alex jumped in the shower, my You’re-An-Amazingly-Attentive-Wife instincts kicked in.
“Wait,” I said. “There’s no shampoo. Let me lovingly fetch some for you.”
“We’re not out of shampoo.”
“Um, yes. We are.”
“Oh yeah? Then what do you call… THIS.”
His hand shot up above the glass door of the shower, triumphantly holding a bright pink bottle.
Not only did it say BODY WASH in bold lettering, it was shimmering and full of little exfoliating beads.
“I just assumed those made my hair extra clean.”
I’m not saying it’s necessarily a bad thing that Alex lives in an alternate universe. It works in my favor most of the time:
1. He won’t notice I ate the rest of the Nutella when it was half full yesterday.
2. He won’t notice the Nutella-stained spoon sitting suspiciously on the night stand by my side of the bed.
3. He literally won’t notice me putting a jar of Nutella in the shopping cart at Target, and therefore doesn’t realize I’m huddled in my office, eating it by the spoonful while “writing.”
I should probably conduct further experiments to try and understand Alex’s universe. Most recently I discovered that if I place a hamper in the exact place where he throws his dirty boxers on the floor, he will throw his dirty boxers into the hamper. But if the lid falls shut? Boxers go back on the floor.
It’s fascinating work.
How is housework divvied up in your home? Which of you is the oblivious one? What other experiments should I conduct?
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