The other secret that David and I have had for the whole time we’ve been together is this: We don’t nag.
And we don’t nag not because we don’t want to, but because of something much more effective: We don’t need to.
My mother—an otherwise very sweet, very competent, very beautiful woman—used to nag my father, and I was always scared I would, too. So, from the first day David and I lived together, we had an agreement: I would do all of the cooking and all of the housework, and wait on him hand and foot, and David would work more than me and pay more than his share of the bills.
So revolutionary, I know. So original.
And so, every morning, I make the bed and pick the clothes up off the floor. During the week, I clean the bathrooms, do the laundry, wash the dishes and vacuum the floors. I make all of our meals.
And I love it.
I don’t love cooking, but I like cleaning and I love living in a clean house, and—more than all that—I like taking care of my husband. And David, of course, likes it, too.
Originality is so overrated.
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