Compost Studios

My husband E is a high-energy, hardworking, multi-tasking, do-it-now kind of guy. He’s all about neatness, efficiency, and getting things done. And he’s married to a woman who has strayed farther and farther from his straight and narrow path in life. The older I get, the more I see dedication to domestic perfection as an obstacle to happiness. I don’t like clutter, I don’t like things to get really dirty, but I can live with a lot of untidiness. I’ll clean it up—eventually. I’m not a “clean-as-you-go” Grrrl; I’m a "I'll-get-around-to-it" type. I fully admit there are some things I just don’t care about.

For example, I don’t make my bed anymore—it’s isolated from the living areas and I never see it during the day, why bother? I often leave the dirty breakfast and lunch dishes on the counter until dinner time and clean up before I cook. I’m great about doing laundry but horrible about putting it away promptly. Living in a three-story house with a washer and dryer in the basement is a challenge. How many trips up and down the stairs can I make in a day, with my arms full, no less?

I only iron for weddings and funerals. I'm sure this is because I'm middle-aged, and I'm getting used to wrinkles in all forms . The foyer is littered with all that we drop when come through the door and items waiting to be carried upstairs. This is efficient in its own twisted way--it's a central location. The kitchen hosts reading material as well as meals—stacks of books and magazines next to stacks of plates. E-Grrrl drops her stuff all over the house, and I’m not quick to order her or her brother to put things away. I'm normally too busy barking at A to do his homework to care. While I do have a penchant for organization, in a house with ONE closet, it’s hard to find a place for everything.

My laid back approach to housework is contrasted by E’s. He is the White Tornado. He steps into the house and immediately grabs either a mop or a damp rag and starts cleaning. He is normally issuing orders to the kids to put things away before they’ve even come into the room. I try not to take it personally or see it as an indictment of all I've failed to accomplish while he was at work. I rationalize this is just the way he is, that he’s not the type to sink into a chair on the terrace and sip a beer at the end of the work day.

The larger truth is that while E and I were once completely synchronized in our quest for domestic order, I veered off track and chose a dirt road once we had kids. We have evolved into a married version of Oscar and Felix. It’s not easy for him, and it’s not easy for me.

A lot has been written about the importance of communication in relationships. This is the basis of intimacy and conflict resolution. Nearly every self-help book and therapist on the planet encourages you to express your needs, wants, and feelings. Dr. Phil makes millions of dollars giving people scripts to confront or address the ones they love.

But here at Chez V, we take a different approach. E and I are still together because we’ve learned what not to say to each other. In a twist on tradition, E shows me how much he loves me by not speaking to me. I give you:

Ten Things My Husband is Wise Enough Not to Say

1. Who used all the water in the Brita pitcher without refilling it?

2. How long is the dining room table going to be covered in art supplies?

3. Call Bono! We could end world hunger with the crumbs accumulating under the table!

4. I see you’re ignoring the laundry baskets—was it something they did or something they said?

5. I assume from the looks of things that the dishwasher is broken?

6. The cobwebs and dustballs—are those Halloween decorations?

7. Which do you think is higher—the pyramid of shoes and backpacks in the foyer or the pile of clean clothes on our bed?

8. You know, my mother used to plan all our menus a week in advance.

9. Are those your clogs I tripped over in the hall or E-Grrrl's?

10. Wow, that’s a nice collection of mugs on the desk--or are those paperweights?

October 16, 2006