When CBG and I were an every-other-weekend couple, our time together was spent largely in “fun” mode. I would spend almost two weeks getting ready for his arrival, ensuring that laundry was done, housework was completed, so that we could make the most of our 48-or-so hours together. Sure, there were usually a few errands in there, but for the most part we relaxed and had fun. A little “mini-vacation” that we got to spend focused exclusively on us. It was this time that made the almost four years of us doing it manageable. And of course, on those mini-vacations together, we were both always on our best behaviour, ensuring that we put our best feet forward to appear neat, tidy, and organized. Because that’s what you always do early on in relationships, isn’t it? But because of the nature of our relationship, that “honeymoon phase” stretched out for the entire first four years together.
Now that we’re together all the time (save every other weekend when CBG is away with Ankle Biter for two days and nights), there is a lot more “reality” in our life. There’s laundry, housework and meal preparation that simply can’t be put off for another time. We are being forced to deal with the less romantic aspects of life like laundry, dirty dishes and taking out the garbage. And the truth is, we’re a lot more relaxed when it comes to cleaning up after ourselves. Some of us a little more than others.
And one very harsh reality that has been bothering me now since moving in together. Dirty clothes left on the bathroom floor.
Yes, folks, it’s true. There seems to be an issue in that department, one that I was hoping would improve as time goes on, but it has been persisting. Clothes thrown on the bathroom floor — pj bottoms, t-shirts, and the biggest offender of all — dirty underpants. It’s offensive, really, how long they sometimes sit there before they finally get picked up. It’s one of those unspoken issues between us. The dirty clothes are left on the bathroom floor and we both continue on our days, quietly trampling them each time we go in and out of the room. Eventually they are scooped up and put into the hamper in our bedroom, but not before they’ve been usually allowed to fester for a day — sometimes even two — on the bathroom floor.
I keep waiting for him to pick them up. Each time I go into the bathroom I see them there, mocking me. I step on them as I stand at the sink, fixing my hair, washing my hands, brushing my teeth. Sometimes I even kick them a little further beneath the bathroom vanity so they’re not quite as noticeable. It’s at the point now where I barely even see them there, in their crumpled, smelly heap.
I know, I know…I really shouldn’t be airing our dirty laundry (so to speak) here on this blog. But you know how it is in relationships sometimes….things bother you, and you keep quiet for as long as possible, but then soon, you’ve got to put it out there. I mean…how long can someone trample someone else’s used laundry on the bathroom floor before they either 1) say something about it or 2) finally pick it up for you?
Well, the answer is, apparently quite some time. Because CBG has yet to either bitch at me for leaving my underpants on the bathroom floor, or pick them up and put them in the hamper for me, dammit. Even when he carefully makes sure that he picks up his own — every single morning. I mean, how much more difficult is it to grab my stuff too? It’s not like it’s ever that much.
Ah well. You know how it is, ladies. Eventually, after years together, you can successfully train your man to do household chores to your standards. And hopefully, with enough time, patience, and loving reminders, I’ll be able to successfully train CBG to pick up my dirty laundry off the bathroom floor every morning when he scoops up his own.
Sure would be nice to not keep trampling on it every day.