With the recent success of a Chore Chart I had to make for him in an effort to bribe him into picking up after himself (he gets one backrub minute for each chore completed, which looking back was a bit generous), this week's piece is:
My Boyfriend Helps Out Around the Apartment: Part I
My boyfriend is a slob. He knows it, I know it, his past roommates know it. Everyone who has ever met him knows it. He probably gets more food on his clothing than he does in his mouth when he eats. I would always be slightly embarrassed when I hung out with him at one of his older apartments, since I had a sneaking suspicion most of the mess was his. I, in denial, told myself that these were houses full of boys, of course they would be messy! I, again in denial, decided to move in with Boyfriend, thinking he would of course be neater when he was living with a girl.
Of course, I was wrong.
Our apartment is tiny. One little thing out of place makes the whole thing look like a filthy barn. Boyfriend could see, due to the tantrums, screaming fits, and tears I shed, that I was not happy with his slovenly habits. The darling boy decided to make more of an effort to help.
First was the vacuuming.
We got a little cheapo vacuum that can easily be tucked in a corner of the apartment, since we don't have any storage space to speak of. It is green, slightly sparkly, and matches our decor. I came home from work one afternoon in October to find he had not only put the Christmas tree up (in OCTOBER) but he had also had the presence of mind to vacuum up all the little plastic pine needles that fell onto the carpet. He was just wrapping the cord to put the vacuum away when I walked in. I was a bit disturbed that our Christmas tree was up before Halloween, but thrilled that he had vacuumed.
"The plastic needles were all over the carpet. I knew you wouldn't like that, so I fixed it." he shrugged, proudly. "But that vacuum is horrible. Why is it so small? You didn't tell me it wasn't a full sized vacuum when we bought it."
I was perplexed. It is a full sized vacuum. I asked him what he meant.
"The handle is so short!" he claimed, "I had to stoop over the whole time I was vacuuming. My back is killing me." I looked at the vacuum, standing maybe three feet tall, tucked in the corner.
"Well didn't you pull the handle out?" I asked.
"What do you mean, 'pull the handle out'?" I walked over to the vacuum, pressed on the button marked HANDLE RELEASE and voila, the handle extended another foot or so. Boyfriend sighed in distress.
"Well how was I supposed to know it did that!"
"Why would a vacuum be that short!" I countered. Boyfriend hasn't vacuumed again. I think the vacuum won. I know I definitely lost, since this is one chore I know I will never get his help with because of our "stupid midget vacuum."