Saturday, February 21, 2009

Didn't ask: "What did YOU do all day?"

I ran a few errands taking the baby with me. There was a list of things that needed to get done for Saturday. The older 4 kids were left with Dear Hubby for the 2 1/2 hours I was gone. Each child knew which jobs to do, and they were almost done by the time I Ieft.

When I arrived home, I at least expected the kitchen to be cleaned up because that is one of DH's specialties. Nothing looked different. I am ashamed to admit that I wondered, "What have they been doing?" But I didn't ask.

Apparently, I had forgotten about a conversation a few days ago about the greasy dust on the top of the cabinets. The conversation went something like this;

DH- "Ew! Have you seen how gross it is up here?"
Me- "Yes, I tried wiping it 9 Saturdays ago when I had all the laundry caught up, no one was hungry and I felt well-rested. I think it needs a vacuum, because using a rag was useless."

Now I did actually try the vacuum, and found that I am too short AND weak to stand on the counter tops, while reaching with the vacuum hose over my head with one hand and hold the vacuum in mid-air with the other. Yes, I could have rested the vacuum on the side, but the hose is not long enough, so it would require someone to hoist it halfway between where they are standing and the top of the cabinets where they are vacuuming.

This is where DH comes in. He apparently took pity on my pathetic story of lifting and stretching and decided to vacuum up there himself. It's not so easy you say? When I got home, I was told how it took a scraper and muscle AND the whole two hours I was gone to clean the greasy dust that had accumulated.

Now it all made sense. That was a job that needed to be done. No one will ever see it. Even when it was done, no one but the doer knew it had been done. There are no blisters, cuts, EKG records to document your hard work. No, just the quiet satisfaction that you've done it. Plus the explanation to the spouse to answer the question they dare not ask, but you know they are thinking.

I just hope that Dear Hubby remembers all of his hard work today. Because he will have to restrain himself from asking the dreaded question, when I'm the one standing in the messy kitchen looking like I've scraped greasy goo all day, with nothing to show for it.

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