Today ended up as another screaming match for me and my family. Once again I cracked up at them all for being messy. I’m at home all the time so clearing up everyone else’s mess shouldn’t be an issue, should it?
This morning I looked around the house at the messes I would have to clean up, again. There were clothes on the floor, dishes left everywhere. Ironing needed doing, the dogs needed to be walked, shopping needed to be done. But this wasn’t what broke me. As I was standing ironing, a smell of burning hit my nose. My hubby, in all his wisdom, had decided to light the bbq and burn some rubbish and wood that was lying around the place. All of the windows at the back of the house were open. So were the neighbours. My house stank of black smelly smoke. And so did the neighbours house. That is what broke me. The complete and total inconsideration of his actions. And as I looked around the house I realised how inconsiderate my family really was. Was it any wonder the house was such a disaster zone when people didn’t bother to do anything or didn’t think about others. My house is filled with lazy people. I’m not talking about putting a wash on, just lifting their damn clothes off the floor would be a nice start.
I’m not the only one who feels this way. For the last decade, women have had increasing pressure on them to be perfect. House to be clean and tidy, stay in shape, have a career. Just do everything for everyone. Not only is this an impossible standard to live up to, it’s a dangerous one. More and more women are falling into the trap of this impossible standard which they think needs to be maintained while their families sit back and do nothing. This standard is putting women at risk of depression, anxiety, and pushing some to the point of nervous breakdowns or strokes. I don’t think I’m alone here when I say that no amount of talking, asking nicely, or screaming, has any lasting effect. Sure, they will help out for a day or two but within a week the women are back to square one. And I’m sure that what we are asking isn’t that much.
So, am I asking too much of my family? All I ask is that they lift their dishes, put their clothes in the wash basket, put stuff away when they are done with it. Hell, if they emptied the dishwasher when it was done I would think I’d died and gone to Heaven. Am I asking too much? For them to shower without me having to scream at them and get dressed before 12 pm when they are off a day? And how about not biting their nails and spitting them out onto the floor? Too much to ask? But these simple things are part of a larger feminist issue, that women continue to be treated as workhorses and are not being treated as equals by their own partners. Sure, your hubby goes out and works all day but since when did that give him the right to make a mess of the bathroom when he gets back in? It didn’t. If he lived alone he would have to pick up after himself.
Today I have made a turning point and have made a discovery as to how I will get them to actually remove their fingers from their asses. I am going on hunger strike. Every day that I find dirty clothes on the floor, tools left lying around, or have to tell them to get dressed before lunch, I won’t eat that day. I tired of having a meltdown every couple of weeks. I’m tired of taking things from them to punish them. I’m tired of the constant battle with them to do a simple task. And I’m tired of having to work until the small hours of the morning in order to get everything done that needs to be done. Yep, you read that right. There has been many a day I have had less than 4 hours sleep because I’m being stretched so many different ways. For years I have battled with these simple tasks. Like I said, I don’t expect them to clean the house from top to bottom.
This may seem like an extreme answer to a silly problem and I’m being a bit overdramatic but when I have to spend most of my day clearing up other people’s crap plus do my job, there is a line that needs to be drawn. We live in a time which is filled with modern conveniences yet I still most of my day battling housework before I can do anything else. Removing mobile phones, Xboxes, or screaming bloody murder isn’t working so maybe if I starve myself they will finally get the message that I am not a skivvy that has to work myself to death to maintain it all. So in a few weeks time if my husband has to announce that I have died of starvation, then you will know exactly how messy and lazy the people in my house really are.