My husband drives me nuts. Not in a bad way, really, more like in an unnerving fashion that is a little difficult to understand. He does the dishes. Constantly. He rarely waits on the dishes, even when more pressing matters are at hand. I don’t get it. Here is this guy with a master’s degree in public policy who loves the mundane task of doing dishes. He also has a similar response to the laundry. What is up with this guy?

Don’t get me wrong, I love the fact that I never have to do the dishes. I rarely do laundry…this is good to my thinking. I feel a bit selfish at times, and guilty in short waves, but overall I do enjoy having more free time on my hands. I do, however, wonder why all of life seems to be preempted by soap suds in one form or another. Perhaps my problem is that I would gladly wait for the clothes to overflow their perspective hampers and literally wave at me from their forgotten state until the job had to be tackled with a sort of enthusiastic loathing, as it should be done. But no, I am married to a man who must rescue the clothing as soon as one load can be accomplished.

My darling husband also makes my coffee while I shower in the morning. This I love. So why, why my adverse reaction to the dishes and laundry obsession? I wish to declare that I would not allow the dishes to stack up…I do love a clean kitchen counter. I just have an aversion to him doing them all the time. Does he not trust me? Is the very action of doing the dishes a passing shot at my procrastinating nature? Am I over analyzing this?

I just don’t know. But, I think I will go dirty up another coffee cup about now, and create another dirty towel…wouldn’t want him slacking off today.