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Around my house we each have things that are considered our own special tasks. If you want to call these chores go right ahead but I prefer “Tasks.” Chore seems to bring negative connotations of my childhood when I always got in trouble for not doing them.
The Honey Do List
Telling your significant other to do a chore is sometimes called a “Honey do” list. This is way too nice of a way of telling you to get off your rear and get to work around the house. We have a “Honey do” list in our house but instead of posting it on the fridge, The Wife just keeps it in her head; that way, I’m never really done. My neighbor has a policy that anything he does, whether it’s on the “Honey do” list or not, gets put on it upon completion, just so he has the satisfaction of crossing it off.
Outside Work
Anything that needs to be done outside is pretty much mine. Sure The Wife has her flowers and garden, but for her, that’s fun stuff. Anything I do, work wise, outside is not fun. Trimming trees, cutting the grass, shoveling the snow, repairing the gutters… it goes on and on. These chores usually involve a ladder or a saw, a shovel or some other tools and tools are my dominion. Not that I’m any good with them or happy about that, but ever since Tim Allen came out with the “Tool Man” routine, that’s the way it is.
Inside Work
Now here’s where I get in trouble from some of you. I’m not saying cleaning is just for women, it just seems to work better that way; let me explain. It’s just that I seem incapable of ever satisfying her, cleaning wise that is. Whether intentional or not, I either don’t do a very good job or I break something important or sentimental. I learned an important lesson some years back from my Mom. One time after a scrumptious Thanksgiving dinner, I was, as was the policy at the time, helping pick up and clean the dishes. Well, to make a long story short, it’s amazing how breaking one Waterford crystal glass can get you out of ever cleaning the crystal or china again. Was this intentional? I’d rather not say.
Shared Work
She sometimes helps me pick up leaves in the fall; I sometimes run the vacuum cleaner. Okay, that’s not really a good tradeoff because she actually does help me with the leaves and I only run the vacuum to leave tracks on the carpet and get an “Atta boy” out of her. (I’m starting to think this is one column I don’t want her reading.) We have been known to wash the windows together—her inside and me outside—but she’s just going to redo what I cleaned anyway so why do I bother?
The Not Allowed List
I’m not allowed to wash the crystal (after that one unfortunate accident) and she’s not allowed to touch my garage. That is, except for the seven boxes of her crap that’s taking up space on my shelves. She acts like she’s not allowed to mess with my man-cave but I know she cleans down there or it would be un-inhabitable by now. Also, I am not allowed to touch, water, move, nor do any other thing to her plants. You spill one plant one time and you’re never allowed to touch them again. Was this intentional? I’d rather not say.
