My husband hasn't cleaned the cat litter in awhile. Because I have really bad allergies and a touch of asthma, I don't go downstairs to the basement when there is alot of litter dust and dirty litter. So when he doesn't take care of the cat's business, it devolves to him to take care of the laundry.
In fact, he orders me to stay out of the basement until he gets around to cleaning the litter...
Which means that I expect that the laundry will get done. All the laundry. His, mine and the Boy's. However, what inevitably happens is, his laundry gets done, and Mikro and I see maybe 2 clean panties and some socks... Worse yet, he has dumped the laundry on the dusty basement floor and walked on it.
So today I go down there and nearly have a stroke over the disaster that I find.
He claims he doesn't intentionally only do his own clothing and treat my stuff and the baby's stuff worse than garbage; it's purely accidental. But I am beginning to realize the universe just does not host coincidences this freaking big. And then there's the fact that he will wash dishes, but leave my tea cups and coffee mugs, because he doesn't drink coffee or tea, and they must have been mine, so I guess that means he doesn't have to clean them...
Where he gets these ideas I do not know. It never gets resolved either, because Kev doesn't even argue about it, he just assumes that while he is free to pick which messes he will deal with, everything else falls to me by default.
If I had ten minutes free to get anything done without a toddler trying to climb my leg, it wouldn't be so bad. But it is reaching ridiculous proportions.
I know he hates doing laundry. I don't like it, but I am willing to do it, ALL OF IT, so long as I don't risk a broken leg or bronchitis from the condition he leaves the basement in.
And finding some of my favorite shirts chewed to ribbons by the dog did nothing to improve matters.
ARGH!
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