My husband is a half cleaner. A word I think I must have made up, though I’m guessing a word that resonates in every wife’s mind as one that has been real all along. He tries, for real, and I have to give him credit, but sometimes? Sometimes when it’s been a bad day, Owen’s cranky and I’m at my wit’s end? It makes me crazy. Not like in a “oh, silly Dave, what will I do with you?” way, but in a “get out of my face or I’m going to hit you up-side the head with these half-clean dishes” way.
Let me explain.
Say we just finished dinner. I will bring the dishes to the kitchen, start cleaning up the table, maybe run downstairs and start some laundry. Dave gets started right away on the dishes, bless his heart, but minutes later, he’s done. Not so fast. “Done” for him is not quite what I would consider done. Because I find this:
Get it? Done to me means wiping off the stove, putting away the oven mits, and cleaning all of the utensils used for each meal.
“Oh Krista, you’re crazy.” Perhaps, but take this example.
Dave is extremely nice to put away the dishes from the dishwasher while I’m cooking dinner (which more often than not actually makes him in the way, but he’s trying, I get it). Dave gets distracted easily, and leaves this:
And walks away, never to return. Or this:
Did you forget to close that? Oh, yeah, or something like this:
Which belongs in the dishwasher, not teetering on the sink.
Again, he’s trying, silly man ADD. But, perhaps, say he’s sitting down to a delicious snack, breakfast, or meal, and he cleans off the table himself, wipes it down, puts his dishes in the sink, but leaves this:
How do you miss that? Is there always syrup on the table so it just doesn’t appear out of the ordinary? No, I assure you we do not keep syrup on our table, though sometimes that might be convenient. Easily replaced in this picture can be salt, crushed red peppers, butter, you get the point.
I’m not complaining (much). Again, he’s a guy, he’s trying, and I appreciate it, but… I don’t know….