#13 – He’ll Be the Death of Me

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.

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7 thoughts on “#13 – He’ll Be the Death of Me”

  1. I can see how all these things are frustrating to no end!

    But the romantic in me would like to think that SP is purposely being this way so that you won’t die on him.

  2. I read this one aloud to my husband and his only reply was a sheepish “ha ha ha, lady.” It’s like you’re writing my life here, especially with the one-armed blind man part.

  3. Preaching to the tired choir here.

    My husband doesn’t even see anything wrong with putting underwear that is permanently air conditioned through the damn wash BEFORE throwing it out.

    I mean, it has to be clean before you bin it?

    Guess who doesn’t do a load of washing a day already? My husband.

    g

  4. J has been home without work for 9 months and I’m still waiting for him to figure out that if my clothes need to be hung up, chances are good that they get hung up in the closet. As opposed to, say, lying wrinkled on the bed. If I die, I’ve told him that my mom gets the kids because I’d like them to not eat McDonalds or hot dogs from the gas station every night. He thinks it’s funny. I think I’m only half joking.

  5. On the rare occasions my husband “puts away the laundry” he never actually does that. He leaves all my stuff in a heap as he “doesn’t know where it goes.” And yet of course I not only know, but designated where his shit goes.

    At least this gives me the opportunity to disappear unfortunately shirts of his without his knowledge.

    Before we were married he had some weird corporate clothing service that did his laundry for him.

  6. I swear!! I do NOT know how Joe managed to live on his own while he was in Tulsa for school. I wonder if the trash was ever taken out or he just forfeited the security deposit. He worked at a Wendy’s so I know how he ate all of his meals, but who did the laundry? Maybe he just bought new stuff every week.

  7. In the event that you actually die first…fear not. Following a suitable morning period (2 weeks? 3?) all the unattached females in his age group will descend like flies on a dead carcass. It is the way of things…

    Instead of wasting your time organizing the house, make up a list of women you do not want around your children. It will probably be more productive.

    Also, go on vacation for a week or two – somewhere unreachable. He might figure out the sock location and laundry situation then.

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