08 September 2014


Guys, something happened to my husband while we were apart. It’s weird. I almost don’t know how to describe it. But I will try.

Paul, as you know, loves his wife very much. A Greek husband, he has become very dependent upon women. He screams out for Azizah, our Singaporean housekeeper. He called Susie, our former PNG housekeeper, by Azizah’s name because, obviously, he is still pining for the older Singaporean married mother of two university kids. At least he calls our current housekeeper, Norah, by her actual name. At least he did until this week. Now he’s talking about Azizah again. On any given day, he can’t make himself a sandwich, whether grilled cheese or stacked with deli meat, because mine “taste better.” And because he’s lazy.

To prove his laziness, last week he decided to lecture me on the proper way to do the dishes:

                Step 1: Leave them for Norah to do.

                Step 2: Sort out the clean dishes and put them away.

                Step 3: Put the dishes that are still dirty back on the counter.

                Step 4: Consider washing the dishes that are not clean.

                Step 5: Leave the dirty dishes on the counter and wait for Norah to do them again the next day.

He also started paying Norah to bring him a newspaper every morning and to do his laundry every week. What. The. Really?

Now, that sounds like Paul.


He has actually started doing some things for himself and I don’t quite know how to handle it.

We got back from Sydney on a Monday. Tuesday morning I made breakfast. I planned the week’s meals, we went to the store and then I made lunch when we returned. Around dinnertime Wednesday, I was starving, so I grabbed some leftover lunch – something Paul wouldn’t eat – and heated the container in the microwave. Then, out of nowhere…

Paul started cooking.

I’m not kidding. I was sitting at the peninsula (our kitchen island that is affixed to a wall), eating forkful after forkful of tomato risotto and Paul went for a pot. He washed and cut broccoli. He turned on the oven and made himself a piece of tuna. I didn’t know what was happening. I may have commented.

Then, last week, not long after his lecture on the proper way to wash the dishes….

HE WASHED THE DISHES. Not Norah-style, either.

My husband has been washing the dishes almost daily for over a week now!! I cannot express my gratitude any way other than constantly thanking him and maybe sometimes hugging him while he is doing the dishes.

But I don’t really know how to react when he’s doing them….Do I sit and continue doing whatever I am doing and act like I don't notice? Do I barge in halfway through and try to take over? Should I be appreciative? Should I just say thanks? Omg so much anxiety about something so little…except it’s really big. Maybe I just won’t say anything.

Have I mentioned lately how much I love my husband?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I trained him before I left, and you are welcome!!