The dating, mating, and waiting game

Now, here's a thing I don't get. Before we were married, when he lived alone, every Sunday Eli cleaned his apartment. And I do mean cleaned. Not, you know, girl-cleaned -- but he scrubbed down the bathroom top to bottom, vaccuumed, did his laundry. Even when I was visiting (and at that point, it was a three hour haul back and forth -- lousy dating arrangement, but there it was) this routine was sacrosanct.

Now, this was actually a factor in marrying him. And routine and my husband are still bosom buddies -- but somehow the cleaning part seems to have fallen out of his. And ya know what? I point-blank refuse to pick up the slack.

I am not, by nature, a slob. Well, okay, maybe on a day to day basis I fall into the surface-messy category, but I actually like cleaning. I like getting everything nice and shiny and attractive and organized and nice-smelling. And having been single till I was thirty-five, I'd gotten used to things, after I'd cleaned, staying clean -- at least for a while.

Now, somehow, every night the stove is splattered with grease. Dirty dishes are piled in the sink, and -- surprise, surprise! -- most of them aren't mine. Unfortunately, the kitchen is the one area I break down on at least every other day. You'd be amazed at how long I can ignore the rest of the house. I'm stubborn. But it did just occur to me that I'm still the one who breaks first -- despite the fact that he was at least as neat a person as me before we got married, the hubby can ignore it even longer than I can. And when I can't stand it any more, I clean.

But what was once something enjoyable now really really bites -- because, for the first time in my life, it's dirty again the next day. Did I sign on to be his mother? Somehow I missed that part of the marriage vows.

So no, I don't mind cleaning. What I mind is cleaning up after someone else, can you give me halleluyah, sister! And ya know what? My determination is restored. My commitment reaffirmed. The child is grown and gone (waaaah!), and I am living with a fully functional adult male who is perfectly capable of scrubbing out the tub (especially since he's the one that gets it coated with that gucky black stuff, not me).

I am strong. I am woman. I can outwait him. Let's see who blinks first this month. Hah!