Sunday, February 28, 2010

And Then Susan Got Mad... - Vol. 3

Susan and I have been together for a very long time. Sometimes, it even seems like we've been together forever.

I mean that in the nicest way possible of course.

...

Over that time, we have become very comfortable with each other. We have learned to accept and live with each other's faults and shortcomings.

Except for one.

See, I'm not exactly what you might call the world's neatest person. I am more of a free spirit.

I have heard it described as being a slob, a pig in man form.

Susan, on the other hand, is an obsessive-compulsive neat freak.

Neat.

Freak.

Even though we've been together forever and she was well aware of my nature, she still, to this day, gets incredibly pissed off that I don't clean more.

Honestly, I feel for her. I'm sure it's probably very frustrating to live with someone who just doesn't give a shit.

And I really don't.

But, I'm going to have to play the precedent card here. I made my position on cleaning quite clear early on in our relationship. This is not a surprise or unexpected behavior. She went into this thing with full disclosure.

She may have thought she could change me.

Not freaking likely. She's more likely to train a goldfish to vacuum as get me to clean up.

I'm just not that kind of guy. Why the hell would you make the bed? You're going to get right back into it.

And wash dishes? We're just going to put food right back on there.

I'm just saving time and energy.

Well... My time and energy. Susan uses HER time and energy following behind me, cleaning up after me.

It's a beautiful symbiosis.

At least, I think so.

She... Does not.

When I started this week, I tried to think of some of the biggest things I've done to piss Susan off. There were so many (seriously) that I was having trouble narrowing it down.

So, I asked her.

This, it would turn out, was a mistake.

I expected her to list off a few times I made her angry and that she eventually got over. You know, look back and laugh at how silly it was.

Not quite.

Instead, I got to hear in tremendous detail just how much work it is to take care of a house and keep it clean.

And she was yelling.

She didn't start out yelling. Everything started out nice and calm and then slowly escalated in volume and tone until she was ranting and raving about cleaning the house.

The word "maid" was thrown about once or twice.

This was a conversation we'd had many times before, so I knew the best thing for me to do was just sit quietly and ride out the storm. Anything I said could and would be used against me in a court of law.

So, I sat quietly. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Things were just starting to wind down and I thought I might actually make it out alive. She was calming down and her volume was slowly getting closer and closer to regular talking. She paused to take a breath and closed her argument with:

Susan>> Why is it my job to clean up everything?

And I heard someone that sounded very much like me say:

[GM]Dave>> Because you're a woman?

And then Susan got mad...

10 Comments:

At 9:06 PM, Blogger Yanni said...

I, for some silly reason, decided to read this to my lovely woman. The first two were great. I read them, she laughed.

This one: she pointed out that she's also willing to use my words against me in a court of law. This being after she punches me in the face, of course.

 
At 11:26 PM, Blogger Bufuman said...

I'm sure glad I got those voice mimicking and ventriloquism lessons! Never have I been more entertained.

 
At 12:04 AM, Blogger Daniel said...

Seriously, why the hell are we expected to make our beds? That's just a waste of time that could be spent leveling

 
At 5:13 AM, Blogger Aspen said...

...and then you fell down some stairs?

 
At 6:43 AM, Blogger Sehtae said...

I agree with the bed-making thing. As I sleep I push my pillows into juuuust the right position for ultimate comfort. I leave them there, because when I go to bed again that night I'll fall asleep almost immediately because everything is in the right place.

No one comes into my home and goes "Is your bed made?" and then asks to see it. Don't see a reason to make it if I don't want to make it.

 
At 8:46 AM, Blogger pigeon said...

Your subconscious is suicidal.

 
At 8:46 AM, Blogger Lorthic said...

Hahahaha @ "is your bed made?"

And Dave... When I first moved in with my girlfriend I made the bed (fresh out of the Army). Until one day, about a week of bed-making later, she told me to knock it the hell off, because we're just gonna fuck it up again.

Although, I still seem to make her mad, even though I never DO anything wrong... Hahaha...

 
At 12:08 PM, Blogger Blueyez said...

I've actually managed to be more of a slob than almost every guy I've dated. Don't get me wrong I do like to make sure I'm not living in something that defies health codes but I'm not very good about putting things away when I know I'm just going to use them again. As for beds, I hate having my sheets tucked in, I get almost claustrophobic from it, hence the bed never gets made. I like to have the blankets more or less covering the bed but thats as far as it goes.

 
At 2:41 PM, Blogger Kyle said...

She doesn't have to. She chooses to, every day. I don't do it. My wife doesn't do it. Is our place messy? Yes it is.

 
At 2:48 PM, Blogger Music-chan said...

See, the proper response to "why is it my job to clean" is "because you're the only one who cares about it being clean"

You'll still get in trouble, of course, but you won't be playing the sexual discrimination card =p

 

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