Since I started my blog, the Hub has been telling me to write posts about how awesome he is.
Every now and then he gives me that look…the “this is going on the blog, isn’t it?” look. He knows. The stream of blog fodder he provides is awesome.
And so today the Hub gets his wish. He gets a post dedicated to him.
Because he sucks.
Yes, that’s correct. He sucks. You see, my Husband does the one chore I hate more than any other: he vacuums.
I would rather do anything than run the vacuum cleaner. I will offer to clean the bathrooms, toilets and tubs included, if I don’t have to run the vacuum cleaner. I hate it. I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s the banshee-like sound it makes. Maybe it’s because the beast is heavy and awkward, like an elephant on skis. Maybe it’s an act of rebellion against my Mother who may or may not love vacuuming more than spring.
What I do know is that since the day we married, the Hub has done all the vacuuming. It means a lot to me because he doesn’t love it, either. But he does love me.
His ready acceptance of this chore I hate speaks volumes. He is willing to do it so I don’t have to. And there are things he would rather not do, like grocery shopping and pairing socks. I take those.
There are things in life we would rather not do and things we flat out hate. Some parts of marriage sometimes suck and some responsibilities we could do without. Everyone has their own laundry list.
Marriage, like sharing chores, is about striking a balance. You have to fiddle with the weights a little to find the combination that works. Help one another. Carry the load your partner doesn’t want. Do the job that sucks.
Find the balance between work and play, too. Some days the chores get finished; some days they do not. The house will not always be clean. And at the end of any day it doesn’t matter if we have spotless floors or sparkling tubs. What matters is that we loved.
Compassion, kindness, nurture. These things matter. These things say love. These things last far longer than the length of a least-loved chore or the freshness of flowers in a vase.
And besides, after the flowers die, someone is going to have to clean them up.
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This post was previously published on themeaningofme.com.
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