Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

The ‘if you care’ school of thought

So you know Crockett and I live together now. It’s been over a month.

I know – I sort of expected to be kicked out by now too. He can barely close the refrigerator, freezer, and pantry anymore. Our bathroom counter is covered with pairs of dirty glasses, glasses cleaner, contact lens cases, lens cleaner, mascara, perfume, several moisturizers, shampoos, body washes, more eye shadow than he has probably ever seen before in one place, and girly detritus in the trash can.

I seriously thought he might crack.

He’s lived here with boys or by himself for 7 years, mostly. The girly trash could easily have been the breaking point.

However, we’re fine. The touchiest experience thus far has been when Maida carried a tampon into his office while he was working. Don’t worry, it wasn’t used. It was unwrapped, but not used. I have no idea where she got it, if you’re wondering. He was a little freaked out, but I was too, so … you know, we’re good.

Sunday night, though, he came home from a nine day ski trip and he cleaned the bathroom before coming to bed.

Let me restate this for emphasis. He arrived home, having been skiing with lots of men for nine days, and before going to sleep in his own bed with his own girlfriend, he scrubbed the bathtub.

I cannot imagine the circumstances under which I would do the same, and that made me wonder if perhaps the bathtub had been a mess and I just hadn’t noticed. Then I wondered if there were other good-roommate/girlfriend chores that I should have been pitching in on that I hadn’t noticed.

Yes, I could ask.

Instead, I’ve decided to adopt Temerity Jane’s division of household labor policy.

That would be the ‘if you give a shit, it’s your job’ school of thought.

Here’s what I give a shit about.

  • A clean dining room table.
  • A moderately organized coat rack.
  • Wiped down kitchen counters and dishes that are kept wet until they’re ready to be washed. Dried food is the devil.
  • Fresh, dry, hung up towels in the bathroom.
  • Having enough containers laying around that stuff can have a place, even if it doesn’t have a PLACE place, and putting the stuff in its temporary or permanent home rather than having it live on the flat surfaces of our home.
  • The dogs being fed and walked and groomed in an appropriate timeframe.

That’s it. That’s what I care about. Everything else can go directly to hell and I’ll probably never even notice. Crockett, on the other hand, apparently cares about a clean bathtub. He definitely cares about laundry – as in, he washes colors and whites separately. I stopped washing whites and colors separately when I was 17 and moved into the dorms and laundry started costing me quarters that I could otherwise spend on Diet Coke. He likes to vacuum.

HE LIKES TO VACUUM.

I’m just going to say it: he has weird priorities.

My plan is to deal with the things that I care about, let him deal with the things he cares about. In a month or so, we’ll see what’s fallen through the cracks.

Here’s hoping it isn’t anything major.

ain't nothing wrong with that

anticipating the ow