Friday, December 11, 2009
I Could Get Used to This
For the past week, while I have been "recovering" from my surgery, my doting fiance' has done (literally) all of the housework.
I have not so much as folded a piece of laundry (although I did carry some downstairs), washed a dish, or lifted any object weighing more than 16 ounces.
The best part: he's actually secretly VERY GOOD at housework.
This is the man who puts his dirty clothes on the floor IN FRONT OF the laundry basket, and occasionally ONTOP of a basket of clean clothes, and leaves piles of dishes in the sink (to do "later") and considers Roomba a valid substitute for vacuuming (its not. Roomba always dies mid floor sweep. And in random, hard to find places, too.)
So I was just tickled this morning to have this conversation:
Him: Are those your clothes on the bathroom floor?
Me: Probably. What would you like me to do with them?
Him: Well, if they're dirty, you should pick them up and put them in the laundry basket where they belong.
(the clothes were on the floor in front of the basket)
It was the moment when our experience of living together had finally come full circle.
All of that aside, I couldn't ask for a better partner in crime. He really has been comforting and helpful (I can't even hook my own bras) and just all around incredible. I am the luckiest girl there is (named Becky. In Philadelphia.)
Even though his secret domesticity is out, I have a sinking feeling this reversal of roles is all too fleeting.
I may have to drag out this injury a little longer...