Thing Number Thirteen | Chores

This is how I perceive our division of labor:  I do the small daily stuff and he does the big weekly/monthly/yearly stuff. I’m not sure he’d agree, but that’s how I see it. And I don’t think I’d change it. I don’t want to be responsible for the big stuff like taxes. Paint fumes give me a headache. And I am not touching anything pertaining to technology or cars. No way. So I’m definitely grateful for all the big stuff he handles. But sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m grateful for the big stuff he handles when I’m doing the third load of laundry. Or loading the dishwasher with the dishes we used to eat the dinner I cooked. Or going back to Rite Aid, again, because he just realized he’s out of contact lens solution. Chores are a part of life, I know. But I was raised with a dad who did all the vacuuming, who always filled my mom’s car with gas, and who helped with the dishes. In addition to all the other weekly/monthly/yearly stuff he did. But, you know what? Come to think of it, my mom handled the bills. Maybe it really does all even out in the end.