I decided to do some homework today. Yes, I do work from home and have been doing so for a few decades; tapping away on laptop, making enough noise with the keyboard to hopefully keep the neighbours fooled I am gainfully occupied!
But today I decided to do some homework, and since we had decided not to keep the maid for the period of the lockdown, there was, I found plenty to do.
The wife, a doctor, left for the hospital, a little worried as she saw the gleam in my eye, which quite often meant trouble when she returned, in the form of angry driver or disgruntled gardener. As her car pulled away, I pulled out broom and mop along with a little plastic scooper, which I found much to my chagrin worked only if the fan was switched off, otherwise it automatically scooped everything onto chairs and dining table. But then learning the rudiments of the job was something I had foreseen, and soon, broom and scooper, behind both a determined me, pulled every bit of dirt from crevice and hiding place and had sitting room and two bedrooms looking spick and span. At least, that’s what I thought! I decided to tackle the other rooms the next day, and proceeded with swabbing.
Now, let me hasten to explain that my powers of observation are very high, but try as I might, all I found myself doing was running the swab, after little Brahmaputra’s, Sutlejs, and a Ganga, that ran all the way to the next room. But soon with a bit of effort I dammed the rivers, swept rising waters under the sofas and beds and hoped fervently they would not disappear into the earth like the holy Saraswati and appear elsewhere.
The home appeared clean when my wife returned, “How do you like it?” I asked looking pleased.
“You had a haircut? Trimmed your beard? Nice!” she said, removing her mask as I looked pointedly at the ground, where she looked also, “Oh you’ve changed your chappals? Nice!” she said again.
It was while we were sitting for dinner I realized that for nearly six months, it was the wife, who after putting aside syringe and stethoscope would shoulder broom and bucket and do quietly what I had just done. Never had I commented on how clean the room, how sparkling the floor or gleaming the furniture looked. I stared ashamed as smirking floor winked at me.
‘Twas when getting to bed the wife, looked at me and said, “Good job Bob!”
“Today’s column?” I asked.
“No, the floor!”
“Thank you! Thank you!” I repeated gratefully and started falling asleep, happy.
Homework needs to be appreciated I realized the hard way, as smirking floor winked once more at me, and looking closer realized it was the hidden rivulet resurfacing to give me a wet grin of agreement..!
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Housework is what a woman does and nobody notices , unless it hasn’t been done !
A wife should appreciate husband’s household work even if it does not come upto her expectation. This will motivate him to do better.
Brighter side of Covid virus is that millions of people across the world, particularly men, acquired new skills such as sweeping/cleaning floors, utensils etc, cooking, baby sitting etc. Not too bad !!
I’m a bachelor boy. No wife to keep happy as I sweep and mop the floor.
Some are happily married.
Some are happily…
not married.
That was a fun story, Bob. Women have the thankless job of housework which is payless too. Outside we’re paid and appreciated. So to do menial tasks, we are happy to pay and feel the appreciation by the maid.
Now let’s talk about increment especially for non working housewives!
Sure!
It’s amusing to note that once my hubby started peeling the onions ,cutting veggies and washing dishes these have acquired another stylish name – skill set !!! I like that. 35 years I did all these and onion peeling and dish washing was not a skill ! Wow. ! Thank you Corona.
My wife is a perfectionist…she wants things done fastidiously, so I do the household chores or not, she any which way will find fault.