8 Oct 2007
How To Discourage Your Partner From Doing Laundry
Although we went to Cyprus with only hand luggage, we still somehow came home to a shockingly high Mt. Laundry.
Even Mike was taken aback when he saw the pile of clothing. And that's saying something. Mike is great at helping out around the house, he is a pretty good washer-upper, a super-duper vacuumer, and, most importantly, a fantastically hands-on dad.
But so far in our 11.5 years of marital bliss, Mt. Laundry has been my personal peak to climb. A solo conquest. For him to have even noticed the laundry speaks volumes about the sheer size of it.
And so it was that yesterday morning, as I was trying to catch up on an endless number of work messages that had accumulated while I was holidaying 'sans Internet', Mike set about teaching himself the art of sorting clothing and operating the washing machine.
Bright and insightful people would no doubt have encouraged this behaviour, perhaps even been thankful. Apparently, I am none of these.
First, I complained when he came to ask me how the washing machine worked, because I was chest-deep in panic emails from people who evidently cannot function without a Scandinavian translator on hand at all times.
Then he was told that he'd sorted the clothing wrong. In my defense, I was really thinking of the boys when I redid the sorting. I would have looked fine in the resulting pinkish hues.
But I digress.
After thinking about it for a while (not lightning fast, this one), I did apologize for being cranky and went back to my work mess.
I wish the story ended there. But nope, there's more.
I am ashamed to admit I also proceeded to correct the way he was hanging up clothing (that's right, we have no dryers in Norway) and the way he was packing the new load in the washing machine too tightly.
My pièce de résistance was this morning, when I criticized the way he was folding the dry clothes and putting them on dusty surfaces in the laundry room.
No wonder Mike finally had enough and told me so. In hindsight, I can't believe he even lasted as long as he did.
So now I am eating humble pie, while Mike will soon be enjoying lots and lots of chocolate bought by yours truly.
My name is Heidi. I'm a control freak.