There is a man in the house

I knew that being married meant having to share my space. For an introvert... no, not even introvert, really. Rather, someone who likes - nay, needs - her personal space... for that person, having another person around all the time is not a situation to be entered into lightly.

And now there is a man in my house. He's almost always here. He has definite man-like ideas about where laundry goes and whether shoes need to be put away and how many acceptable places there are to store one's treasures at any one time (and by treasure I mean wallet, keys, flashlight etc.)

It's awfully fun having him around, if only for the opportunity for anthropological study.  People who don't believe in gender differences need only to observe a man and a woman both tackle the same household tasks.

Several weeks ago I showed him a list of chores I wanted to get done, and said we could go out afterwards. "It'll be too dark by then," he said, "this is going to take hours!" I laughed, because I don't dilly dally over chores. I get 'er done and then move on. There is too much to do to linger over the toilets! But sure enough, it wasn't until 5 hours later that we were putting furniture back in its place after sweeping, vacuuming, then mopping the main floor. Turns out he is very thorough.

A detail I remembered again this morning when I watched him tackle the downstairs loo. When I do the job it entails wiping down the outside of the toilet, scrubbing the inside thereof, mirror, sink, faucet, tub all get a wipe down, and I go over the floor with a disposable wipe or two. My husband, on the other hand, removed everything from the room not bolted down, and went after every nook, cranny, and crevice. He even took apart the extractor fan thingy to complain how dirty it was, then dismantled, cleaned, and reassembled the wall-mounted soap dispenser left by the previous owner which I didn't like because it looked gross. NOW it sparkles and is the most convenient contraption.

I think I'll keep him.