I understand he was raised by women.
And I completely realize this was a key factor in his character development, really I do. But does that somehow render him unable to deposit his dirty socks into the hamper? Because he seems quite capable of standing in the middle of the living room while letting them drop irreverently to the floor. Did his mother and two older sisters impede the growth of the specific gene responsible for the proper handling of soiled clothing? And cooking? Did having twin sisters five years his senior prevent him from learning the basic kitchen skill set? Like boiling water or peeling carrots or pan-frying a grilled cheese sandwich or loading dirty dishes into the empty DISHWASHER instead of just arbitrarily dropping them into the sink. I wonder.
I give you exhibit A:
I give you exhibit A:
Notice the position of the socks and t-shirt as they were, once again, carelessly tossed onto the living room floor. Nothing more than crumpled, twisted and mangled reminders of the endless and cyclical chore of laundry. Nothing more than an inadvertent insult hurled by an unassuming Husband.
Although I wholly subscribe to the notion that boys who are raised by devoted mothers and have good relationships with their sisters grow up to be extraordinary husbands, I do think a measure of laundry hamper autonomy is in order here.
Darling, if you’re reading this, it would behoove you to start picking up after yourself lest I start scenting your clothes with lavender sachets until your co-workers start questioning your sexuality.
Although I wholly subscribe to the notion that boys who are raised by devoted mothers and have good relationships with their sisters grow up to be extraordinary husbands, I do think a measure of laundry hamper autonomy is in order here.
Darling, if you’re reading this, it would behoove you to start picking up after yourself lest I start scenting your clothes with lavender sachets until your co-workers start questioning your sexuality.
2 Comments:
It's just a y chromosome thing maybe. I would have an equally damaging photo to show you had I not already tampered with evidence this morning...aka laundry.
We are blessed with great husbands....but dammit if I didn't wish for just a wee bit more on occassion. Especially now with my belly sticking three feet out in front of me. I'm liable to trip over the clothing on the floor before I see it nowadays.
I'm with ya all the way woman. However wonderful they may seem, there isn't a one who couldn't use a little training here and there. Mine will now put his on top of the hamper 50% of the time and I'm seeing that as major progress.
I must, sadly, admit that I'm as much the guilty party in our household. I'm always toot-tooting the wonders of my husband, but really, truly, I have almost no complaints, laundry included.
If I started to complain about a stray pair of boxer shorts, then he'd have the right to complain about the empty water glasses I leave everywhere. I guess that's the beauty: he was raised alone with his mother, and always had his share to do. He does dishes and floors, I do laundry and bills. Works out pretty well as long as nobody gets on anybody else's case about the timeframe.
Maybe put a hamper in the middle of the living room?
Post a Comment
<< Home