Just Fold the Frickin' Towels Right and We Wouldn't Have This Problem

A friend of mine was pregnant last year and spent a good part of her pregnancy lamenting her husband's complete inability to understand that yes, there was a baby coming, and yes, that made her feel physically like crap. I find the same thing happening all the time in the course of infertility treatment, when DH can't understand why I don't feel cheerful after a shot or an unsuccessful treatment or a drawn out appointment. (He's excited because he knows that if we're at the clinic, we'll go get a cinnamon sprinkle bagel afterward, so maybe it's a conditioned response.) So I guess I have more of the same to look forward to, if we ever do get pregnant.

Last night reminded me that this inability to get where I'm at isn't unique to reproduction, however. DH recently got promoted, and he's been super busy, and I've been working at home a lot, so I try to take care of stuff so he doesn't have to. So last night I had a class, but before I went, I went grocery shopping, cleaned up the house, made dinner, made fresh chocolate ice cream, skipped a shower even though I hadn't washed my hair in 2 + days, and dashed out the door without having the time to wash dishes. I explained this to him, and he said he'd do it.

When I got home, DH hadn't done the dishes, because he'd lost his wallet and was frantically looking for it (it does not matter that I have a designated spot in the house for his wallet, mostly for my own convenience, so I don't have to stand around waiting when it's time to go somewhere). But still, I get it. He was busy looking for the wallet.

Only he still went running. I explained to him that this was frustrating. It was 10 pm and the kitchen was a disaster, and tonight we're making a cheesecake for Thanksgiving. I explained that it seemed like he was making what he wanted to do a priority, but not what I wanted him to do--even though I get why you don't wash dishes when your wallet is missing. I just don't get why you do go running.

Anyway, he apologized for this. And then about two minutes later, he decided the solution was to make the cheesecake. He loves to bake. Unfortunately, it appears he hates doing the dishes so much he's programmed himself to not even hear what I'm saying when the word "dishes" is in the sentence. No interest in cleaning the dishes; every intention of adding to the shit pile for me to clean up the next morning, despite our conversation two minutes back (even in dog years, that's only like 15 minutes).

A few years ago, I went to a conference at which a woman made a joke that many women in the room seemed to get, "What do you do when your husband helps out by folding the towels?" And everyone answered, "You refold them." And I thought, why the hell would you do that? But now I know. You do it because no matter how many times you explain the supreme way you do things, your husband keeps insisting on doing it wrong. If he'd just learn to fold the frickin' towels, we'd all get along.