My Life on a Plate

A Man Thing?

I feel a hubby grump coming on; sorry folks but it has been a while hasn't it? A few cross words last night over one thing and another which started from nothing, as often happens.

Today is the first day since we returned from Rhodes that I have no activities or appointments and can spend at home. I know from experience that much as my ideal day would be sitting outside reading and writing, it never works out that way. Hubby commented last night that surely there was nothing of importance to do and I could spend the day doing as I liked. Great in theory but I can't make him understand that life just isn't like that, not for me anyway.

I got up early, prepared my diet breakfast (yum yum not) and as often happens the phone rings. Half an hour of being advised by a friend about making enquiries and collecting the necessary forms to ensure I get assistance when my parents reach the point where they need my full time care. Thanks for the reminder; if we owned a gas oven I might have put my head in it. Throw away cold breakfast, wash up and go back upstairs. Make beds, sis is coming this weekend so bedding needs washing, sort pile of laundry out. Put washer on and of course peg it all out when it's finished. Come across charity bag that needs to be put out tomorrow. Sort out unwanted clothes and bag up those together with a few son has thrown out. No contribution from hubby, I don't think he's even parted with a pair of pants since he came out of nappies.

Hair needs washing. Hubby scoffed when I mentioned I needed to do that. 'How much time does THAT take?' he asked. Well, being follically challenged has its advantages I reckon, he has no idea how long it takes to sort out a lion's mane. Still got to dry it too and in this heat that's no easy task either. Okay for him to just wash and dry off his few thin strands.

And it's me who feeds the birds and fills up the birdbath, which then leads to potting up a couple of plants that have been left outside. Then realise my mum asked for some compost, so have to fill a bag for her. Only five minute jobs but they all add up and by the time I'm finished it's past lunch time. (yum yum not)

He then enquired if there was anything he could do to help before he left to play golf this morning.
'Yes, empty and tidy the shed, greenhouse, garage and loft, sort out all your disgusting cupboards, clean the carpets and windows and remove all your manpiles.' My sarcasm wasn't appreciated.

The thing that gets to me is that he's content to live amongst chaos and clutter and I'm the one it upsets. I admit I'm a bit obsessive about order and am probably more organised than the average person. I don't say that's anything to brag about but to me, it just makes life easier and more comfortable. But it only goes as far as my areas of the home. I'll forgive my son for being untidy; he works full time and is too young to be bothered about such things. To be honest, although his room is a mess on the surface, there is some order in his cupboards and drawers and he is prepared to part with things he no longer uses. But hubby is a different matter.

He claims I don't go in the garage, shed or loft so why does it concern me. It concerns me because this is my home too and I don't see why he should fill all these places with his clutter. It concerns me because I see no point in hoarding things from decades ago that serve no purpose. It concerns me because in my most morose state I wonder how I could be expected to cope with it all if he dropped dead. If I dropped off my perch it would take little time to sort out my stuff and most of it could be happily rehoused. What would I be expected to do with a loft full of dust -covered model railway engines, track, mounds of wire and piles of unused wood? He never uses it anyway. The garage, shed, greenhouse are full of useless crap too but it would never occur to him to sort it out and get rid. His drawers and cupboards give me a panic attack every time I open them but he's quite happy to keep them that way.

Yes, I know we're all different and the world would be a sad place if we weren't. Yes, I know it's trivial and there are far more important issues to worry about. Yes, I know he's good at helping with some household tasks and tries to please. But why, if he wants to please me so much, won't he take on board what I say about keeping possessions to a minimum and DO something about it? Instead he just accuses me of nagging. Yes, I know I'm nagging.

Is it just that men are naturally untidy and hoarders and women can write massive, mind-numbing blogs on the subject? Sorry, finished griping. He's back from golf now, time for a fresh nag. lol

P.S. Thanks so much for the badge Breeze; a bright light in an otherwise dull day.