House Rules
hometools
I don't know about your house, but John and I sort the chores through a process I call 'cultural adaptation'. In other words, we don't sit down to negotiate or fight over who should do what. Rather our house rules evolve out of what we like (aka can tolerate) and don't like (aka refuse to lift a finger to). Luckily for us, our likes and dislikes don't overlap much and we're way beyond traditional household roles where the wife does the work and husband sits there and then ignores the results because that's what you're supposed to do. My first husband tried that. I divorced him in less than four years for this reason and several others, all centered on his trying to be in charge of me. Ha!
John and I have lasted 27 years because of this cultural adaptation process. For example, I hate making the bed every morning. The root cause stems from being required to do it every morning by my father, the ex-Army major, when I was growing up. And, yes, he did inspections with the 'can you bounce a quarter off the bed?' trick. I saw no need when I knew that at night I'd just be messing it up again. Once I left home, I became a great 'just throw the covers out enough so they're not in a pile in the middle' person.
However, I also don't like house cleaning much and I really hate cleaning bathrooms. My high school years working as a cleaning lady taught me that people are pigs, able to roll in their own slop. Therefore, I acquired an OCD itch.
John likes making the bed so that's become one of his morning pleasures. He also loves a challenge to exercise his methodical and maniacal cleaning skills. For a while, he took on the detested bathrooms and kitchen greases while I dusted and vacuumed. It was tolerable, but we were both ecstatic when the cleaning service came aboard. Even in retirement, we prefer just picking up the morning they arrive, smiling with mops, rags and solvents in hand.
My pleasures? For example, I love doing laundry, picking up, putting away and wiping off all the time, any time. I get almost galactic satisfaction from sorting, washing, folding clothes and organizing closets. The smell of fresh linens gives me a high. Seeing everything lined up can be orgasmic. Filling bags with donations engulfs me with contentment and calmness. Marie Kondo is my hero!
Over time, cultural adaptation can lead to role evolution. For example, in the beginning, I did most of the cooking. John was the scullery maid, cleaning up after meals. His cooking repertoire, quite frankly, was limited to pasta and red sauce, ordering pizza, but with great flare, grating his own Parmesan cheese. After a while, however, he got interested in food and recipes. It started when he helped me by making salads and creating his own dressings. Then he took on the entrée challenge. That was fine with me until I saw the kitchen after his first "big cook". I wasn't going to be the scullery maid full time. He had managed to use almost all our pots, pans, mixing bowls, spatulas and wooden spoons and spread them over the counters. This man needed training in how to clean as he cooked. And, so he learned, allowing our roles to evolve. He's now is charge of grocery lists and shopping. I tag along as the sidekick crossing out items on the list as we travel the aisles. Eighty percent of the time, I'm the sous chef and he's the head chef.
Sometimes he's even reluctant to let me clean up. Why? He doesn't like the way I fill the dishwasher. Do I complain? Absolutely not! I know when I've got a good thing going.