I am the first to admit that Charles and I are not super clean or tidy people. We have jobs, kids, hobbies and social engagements all of which gives us about two hours on a Saturday morning to clean, if we're lucky (apart from doing the dishes at night and a cursory tidy up). It's obviously not enough and occasionally that really bothers me. But when it comes down to it, I'm not really willing to sacrifice any of the other things going on in my life in order to clean more. Cleaning, while satisfying, is not something that will make it into my memoirs and it certainly won't be a shining life achievement I look back on with pride.
Anyways, this weekend I was madly trying to finish a uni assignment and Charles was left to clean the house alone. I should stress that this rarely happens. If I'm not cleaning he feels no obligation to clean although he will do it if asked. So I asked him to clean and after watching a whole day of him "cleaning" I was struck (not for the first time) by the startlingly obvious differences between us and how we clean.
Charles will start with a pile of stuff.
He will assume an air of industriousness. A veritable flurry of activity will ensue.
Time passes while everything is sorted into careful piles. A lot of time. Finally...
He will be very proud of himself. He will seek my approval.
It's a good thing I love him.
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