Second Helpings

Rule One

Life goes on in its bland little way, but I have taken on board the opportunity to observe things we should NOT do now we are sixty. I don't know how many examples will rear their heads, but as always will wing it and take advantage of any opportunity that gives me something to ramble about. So here is my first piece of advice.

Never step outside your domestic boundaries.

One of the suggestions in the book I mentioned in my last entry stated ‘If you haven’t before because one or both of you worked, agree to share household chores.’

I don’t remember much about domesticity from that other life, when both of us went out to work, the kids lived at home, parents were fine, finances were healthy, growing old was imponderable, technology behaved, the weather was always sunny, the price of carrots was stable and all the other memories I have of the era. Probably delusions, but that’s another separate issue. I think I did most of the cooking and cleaning, as I only worked part-time and it didn’t seem such a distasteful waste of time back then.

Since retiring things have altered dramatically. I realised after a while my husband is probably more domesticated than I am. In some ways anyway. There’s many a female envies my attachment to someone who cooks, irons, vacuums, washes pots, mows the lawn and religiously scrapes the grill pan over the sink twice weekly. But the buck stops there and I have to add he shows no respect for my preference for minimalism and tidiness. Neither will he ever clean the bog, bath, sink, windows, wipe surfaces, polish or dust. I have a theory he only enjoys tasks that involve pushing something, but that’s another different story.

There was never any discussion or rules set in stone about domestic roles since we retired. It sort of crept in insidiously and is rarely talked about. Of course there are days when I grumble he’s done nothing around the house and vice versa, but on the whole we go about our separate, tacit duties quietly and without comment.

This unspoken routine is not something I’ve ever given a great deal of thought to until the other day.

I was down on my knees removing about six months of dust and fluff from behind the landing radiator upstairs. As is his way, hubby appeared in the vicinity so I stole the opportunity to put him to some use.

‘Would you mind taking down the lampshade?’ I asked. ‘It must be filthy and I can’t reach it.’

Hubby obligingly fetched a chair to stand on and proceeded to hand down the lampshade, which was indeed worse than filthy. I put it on the floor ready to take downstairs and wash. It was then hubby uttered those three little words I’ve been longing to hear for years.

‘Pass the duster’

It’s a good job I wasn’t standing up or I may have fainted. It seemed the light fitting and bulb were also covered in antiquated dust and for the first time in his life he’d felt the urge to remove it. I willingly passed him my duster and gazed in awe at this new phenomenon. Seconds later there was a slight scrunching sound, an ouch from hubby and a crushed light bulb inside his clenched fist.

In his haste to descend from the chair and inspect the damage to his hand, he neglected to look down or remember my disapproval of the fact he always wears shoes in the house. There was a much louder scrunching noise, an expletive or five from me and a pile of shattered glass on the floor as his heavy foot stepped right in the middle of the lampshade.

On the plus side it saved me the task of washing the damned thing and afforded him the opportunity to fetch his favourite household device and vacuum up all the shattered pieces. On the downside it now means searching out and paying for two new lampshades as the deceased one was one of a matching pair.

The moral of the story? Sharing household chores is fine, but for those approaching sixty or facing retirement, know your domestic boundaries and stick within them. Failing to do so could result in domestic violence and in our case choosing weapons would be distinctly unfair. What chance would I have wafting a duster or bog brush against his vacuum cleaner and lawn mower?