Why is it that when Hubby decides to help out with the housework, he has all kinds of suggestions as to how I’m doing it wrong and what I can do to be more efficient? I’ve been doing laundry for 27 years. Let’s see . . . approximately 5 loads of laundry 2 times a week for 27 years. Yep, that’s a lot of laundry. He’s done maybe 20 loads in all those years . . . and that’s being generous.
He offered to help with the laundry today. I just knew this wasn’t going to go well for me. Don’t get me wrong, I seriously appreciate the help. My schedule has been a little hectic lately and I’ve been having the "I don’t live here alone you know" conversation with him. But I don’t appreciate the lecture on how he does the job so much better than me. Let’s not forget the tips on how to make the more efficient. Honey, when I do the laundry, I’m doing at least three other things at the same time. The system I have works just fine for me. If you think you can do the job better, then have at it.
Yea, I say that but the thought of him doing laundry breaks me out in hives. I remember the time he put bleach in with my good work clothes and everything was a strange shade of gray. I remember the time he put my red Christmas footies in with the underwear and everything (including his undershirts) was a pretty shade of pink.
I’ve given him detailed written instructions on my process for doing laundry. I’m sure I’ll get detailed written instructions on how to do it his way. It will be all I can do not to snap his head clean off his shoulders. I figure it will be like the grocery shopping thing – he’ll get bored with the Suzy Housewife routine and give it up after a couple of weeks.
I keep repeating to myself that I should be thankful that he volunteered to help . . .