I try to do little things around the house to prepare Sparring Partner for my death. Not that I have any plans on dying in the very near future, but hey…you never know.
I’ve already made him promise that if I do die that he must get a maid. He’s not a tidy person by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, the level of dust and dirt would probably reach enough in quantity so that potatoes could be grown along the baseboards. Not long ago, we had a huge argument about one of the attachments on the vacuum and why I can’t ever seem to put it away when I’m done with it while he ALWAYS puts it away when he uses it. The attachment was found in the basement, which is where he last used it – a year ago. And more recently he was asking me where the brushless attachment for the vacuum I use upstairs was. It took some pretty harsh words to finally convince him to fuck off remember that there was no such attachment for that particular vacuum.
A maid would also insure that the kids would be able to walk out of the house with clean underwear and socks. He has no idea why on the weekends I end up dumping four baskets of clean laundry on the bedroom floor in order to get them folded, and actually has accused me of waiting WEEKS to do the wash. In one day, the following items are in the hampers: 8 socks, 3 underwear, a minimum of 5 shirts (2 for each boy since they have a penchant for “layering”), 3 pants, and the odd towel or baby blanket. In ONE day, we’ve accumulated 20 laundry items – at LEAST. Hello! We are a small family of four!
I’ve labeled the sorting hampers in the laundry room. My 7 year old son has a better grasp of sorting laundry than my husband. For the past 15 years I’ve been showing Sparring Partner how to fold the clothes that need folding; how to hang up the clothes that need hanging, and yet…on those blue moon occasions he’s folded something or hung something, I wonder if he hadn’t had a one-armed blind man come in to do it for him.
I keep the cleaning supplies in labeled bins. The brooms and dust pans hang on the wall in plain sight. Aitch’s dresser drawers are organized the same way they were when Doodicus was a baby. And yet? When I need Sparring Partner’s help in getting Aitch ready in the morning, I will hear him shout over the monitor: “Where do you keep the socks?!”
* deep sigh *
I keep the baking ingredients all together. Baking supplies like pans and racks are all in one drawer. Oven items in another. All next to or above the stove.
All this because I am preparing him for my death.
I’m starting to get a bit suspicious that he actually KNOWS all this but is trying to drive me to an early grave.