As it’s such a beautiful, sunny day today my thoughts turn to spring cleaning – not that I ever do it, I just know someone, somewhere is getting pretty excited about banging their rugs on the washing line.
I’m ‘lucky’ because Jeff will help out with the housework – and aren’t men so much better at it than us?! Well, so they would have us think, because when Jeff is cleaning you would have thought I’d never picked up a duster in my life!
First they have to announce that they’re going to clean, so that you know they’re doing you a massive favour. Then there’s all the noise and disruption while they’re actually doing the job – Jeff always seems to put at least twice the physical effort in than I do. Perhaps it’s because I do it every day and the novelty’s worn off, perhaps it’s because I don’t care if I miss a bit; I don’t know.
Then there’s the ‘tutting’. “tut, look at the amount of dust I’ve got off of here. tut, I got all these dog hairs from behind the fridge, would you believe it?!” and he waves the cloth in my face so I can stare in amazement at the dirt he got off the mirror.
He’ll usually choose to make his valuable contribution to world hygeine when I’ve decided to take half an hour out with a coffee and a magazine and, bugger me, I start feeling guilty that I’m not doing anything!
Worst of all is that, when they’ve finished, they will list everything they’ve done with pride – maybe even take you on a tour expecting gasps of delight at their domestic prowess. (“Look, babe, I pulled the sofa out to hoover and everything”). If you’re really lucky, they’ll give you a bit of advice on how you can do it better in the future! Plus he now thinks an hour of housework qualifies him the tell people in the pub that we ‘share the chores’.
Imagine if I frolicked in front of him with his dinner every night shouting ‘ta-da!’ as I put the plate in front of him, or gave him a running commentary on what’s going in the washing machine every day, or rang him from Tesco’s to give him an update on the trolley status. I’d have no time left to scrub his rejected skin off the bath, put the cd’s in alphabetical order (again!) or ensure there’s always a spare pack of bacon in the fridge.
So, when he says to me “I cleaned the whole bathroom and you haven’t noticed” I just smile and say “I know, it’s a thankless task, isn’t it?”