There is an equity problem. It has always been there for 42 years. You’d think I would be used to it by now . . . but it still gets under my skin. The problem? The wife’s expectations when I have “time off”. You might equate it to a “honey do” list. Whatever you want to call it, it raises its ugly head whenever I have “time off”.
You guessed it . . . I have “time off” from the university between Christmas and New Year’s Day. With the “time off” comes the “honey do” list, my whining, and the ultimate guilt trip that accompanies it all. Let the holidays begin!
Why is this an “equity” problem? Now you might be thinking that the wife and I have a “tit for tat” relationship. A “give or take” agreement. What is good for the goose is good for the gander. You’d think that if the wife had time off I would create a “honey do” list full of expected tasks I want her to complete. I can assure you that I do not! I tried it once. That was a mistake that nearly cost me my life as I was reminded that a “woman’s work is never done.” It was traumatic enough that I resisted presenting a “honey do” list to the wife when she has time off. I’ve lived a longer life because of that restraint.
With “time off” comes the expectations. For example, this being the Christmas season, I should take all the Christmas decorations down—including the tree. Christmas decorating is way beyond my pay scale. Not that I didn’t try in the beginning. I did. After a while I realized that the wife was placating me . . . tolerating my efforts at decorating. Whatever I did decorate was rearranged and prefaced with, “Don’t you think it would better like this?” In this, too, I learned to keep my mouth shut when what I really wanted to say was, “No, if it was, I would have done it that way in the first place.” Again, it is better to pick your battles and live another day . . . not to fight, but to live.
Taking down Christmas is the big expectation while I am off. The wife drops hints all the time. I’m off. Yet, I assure you . . . I watched the little missus decorate our humble abode. I watched it for hours. Yes, hours. I know that it took hours to decorate and in turn it will take hours to undecorate. Hours of my freedom I do not want to lose. My first thought is to throw a blanket over the tree and move it to a corner of the living room where no one will notice it. As I see it, it is killing two birds with one stone. This never flies. It must come down, be placed in the correct boxes, and hauled to the basement to be stored for another year.
I will also stall. This is where I attempt to trump her with our theological education as ministers. I try to throw the ecclesiastical card into the fray. Christmas isn’t over for 12 days—thus the Twelve Days of Christmas song. Using the ecclesiastical calendar, Christmas begins on Christmas Eve and ends 12 days later on January 5th with the start of the season of Epiphany. It is sacrilegious to undecorate before Christmas is over. God might get mad and plague humanity with a slew of fruitcake.
That argument is a 50/50 proposition. Half the time the wife just uses her look of disgust and reminds me that 12 days later it is going to come down . . . fruitcake plague or not. The expectation is that it is coming down and coming down on my time.
You would think I know better about taking time off during the holidays. I guess I am a slow learner. The expectations of the “honey do” list are immense . . . and, not to mention, time consuming. Make the ed. Empty the trash. Empty and load the dishwasher. Make the backyard poop-free. Pick up the dog toys. Entertain the dogs. Pick up the dog toys again. Cull our library of books. Clean the bathroom. Cook dinner. Load up the dishwasher again. Pay the bills. Fix all the broken things in the house. Ya da, ya da, ya da . . . the list goes on and on. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.
And it doesn’t “feel” fair. Just because I am the one off why should I pick up the load by myself? Granted many of these tasks are usually done by both of us. And the wife is working this week with a short staff meaning more work for her. I should be the considerate spouse, buckle up, keep my mouth shut and do what needs to be done. I should ease the load of my wife’s burdens this week. Yes, I should.
But it SUCKS!
Why should I be the “good guy” . . . the “nice guy”? Maybe I want to be a jerk and ignore it all . . . but I can’t. I will break down and do it all. I will do it, but not without a fight or at least a whimper. A fight might get me killed, but a whimper will probably be tolerated. Yeah, the wife can handle a whimper. After all, we are both parents. As parents our children have taught us well.
As the kids were growing up, they fought having to do the chores around the house. The wife and I never asked them to do anything that would kill them. We never asked them to paint the house or take out the transmission on the car. No, we asked them to do simple things, like clean their rooms. A simple request. The reaction was nothing short of a nuclear explosion. The moaning and groaning would start. The gnashing of teeth. The rolling of eyes. The debate and arguments would commence. The whining. It was terrible. Then the kids would start up.
Typically, it takes an hour to clean a bedroom. One hour. With the show that the kids put on it would take two hours to a whole day. I’d point out that the longer they fought it, the longer it would take. It was their time they were wasting.
Yup, you got it. This blog is that lamenting time I am putting in before I buckle down and do the “honey do” list. Yeah, I know, I’m wasting my time . . . not the wife’s time, but it is such a dramatic and powerful tribute to my children. They raised me well.
Thankfully my wife is patient. She is kind. Tolerant. She knows she has me between a rock and a hard place. She will win. I know that. She knows that. I will comply because I want to live. What good is “time off” if I am dead? The wife tells me that is a fair trade-off. Tells me that it is equitable. She gets the list done. I get to live. After 42 years you would think I get it.
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