I have become someone who only
blogs about housework. Forgive me.
But god, when did cleaning start taking
up such a high percentage of my life? Barely an evening goes by where something
does not require hovered or cleaned or anti-bacteria-ed. The Boyfriend lives in
blissful ignorance of the home the woodlice are making under our radiator, or
the darkening rim in the bath, or the fact the oven needs cleaning.
It must be a happy world he
inhabits.
A world where dirty washing reappears
cleaned in wardrobes, the toilet magically smells of pine, and you have no
interaction whatsoever with a toilet brush.
Let me be clear, The Boyfriend
certainly does not think that cleaning is woman’s work, rather he does not see
the mess. And when I point it out, usually with bottle of bleach in hand, a
crazed expression on my face, and my voice a full octave above the usual pitch
that I am,
‘fed up, sick of cleaning, is this really what
you think I want to do in an evening? Yes I do feel put upon? Oh my god is that
MOULD, this house is a TIP, how can you not see the crumbs everywhere? How have
you got the new bin dirty?’
… He is usually quick to grab the
hoover in a show of solidarity.
But I know that I am not alone.
Worse still, change is hard to come by, and a study from Oxford
University has found that men are unlikely to be doing an equal share of the
vacuuming, dusting and washing up much before 2050. 2050. I’ll have retired. That is if retiring is still a
concept in 40 years.
But he does try.
The Boyfriend: “I checked the
laundry to see if it could be put away, but it seems to be getting damper.”
Me: “No love. That’ll be because
that’s a new load.”
The Boyfriend: “ah.”
2050 you say? It’ll be here
sooner than we think.
