With the prospect of full-time retirement looming on the horizon, I have belatedly been trying to lay down a few ground rules. Throughout our married life my beloved has done his job to the best of his ability and that’s it! I’ve done my job, helped him to do his better, and looked after pretty much everything else.
Until recently, I was resistant to the idea of staying in a self-catering apartment for a vacation because the only place I ever get waited on hand-and-foot is in a hotel. Staying in an apartment abroad was akin to still being at home but with better weather. In the early years of our married life, we spent many a holiday in one of my parents’ Spanish apartments where I would fiercely resist doing too much cooking. I was on holiday for goodness sake!
I can occasionally get my beloved to do a few household chores. He’s Officer in Charge of Drinks which generally means he’ll make the coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon and serve any alcoholic beverages I may desire. Occasionally, I’ll get him to take out the rubbish and, about twice a year, he’ll clean the windows outside. I have to do the inside. And that’s pretty much his sole contributions to domestic chores.
Of course, I always say I’ll settle for him creating less mess. Easier said than done. I’d just washed the marble floors this morning when I spot he’s walked muddy footprints from the front door round to his bathroom. Of course, while we both wear Birkenstock sandals, Marabis slippers and ON trainers, it’s easy to identify the culprit from the size of their footprint. He knows he’s in the doghouse so he’s been lying low in the office, teleconferencing all afternoon.
I have tried to explain that once he retires, I’ll expect him to give me more of a helping hand around the flat otherwise I’ll only be looking after myself. He thinks I’m joking. I’m not, I’d like to retire too!