|The view from this side of the world...|
I ring out the wash cloth after dipping in soapy water. I sulk to the sticky kitchen table and start wiping.
“You know, I feel like a hampster in one of those plastic wheels. All day I clean. All day! I clean, clean, clean. I wash dishes, what? Five times a day? I organize dishes, I wash them, I dry them, I put them away, I take them out again… I make a meal and start all over. Argh!”
Back to the sink, dip cloth, ring it out, and now the counter tops. My husband just looks up, smiles slightly, and keeps scrubbing the pot in his hands.
“I mean, seriously!” I continue. “It’s all I do. It’s practically my unpaid occupation! I clean half-done crafts, I pick up toys, books, games, play-doh… I scrub toilets, I vacuum – like 4 times a day now that we have Molly (our 85lbs Golden Retriever Pup). I do dishes. That’s what I do. I should have gotten a degree in soap suds or something.”
He snorts and shakes his head.
I shake mine too, finally stopping myself from further outburst. And then – I quit ranting long enough to allow my mind to wander in the silence of our little country home full of sleeping kids.
To read the rest, won't you join me here?