Friday, October 05, 2001

 
Well, despite my temperature still being just under 98 degrees and my breasts being unusually tender earlier than normal, I am quite sure I am not pregnant.

I know this because ten minutes ago I was storming around the kitchen, throwing things from the dishwasher into the cupboards while my coffee went cold, cursing my husband with questions about how bloody hard is it anyway to empty a bloody dishwasher, on the verge of tears and feeling so tense my shoulder has started to throb.

fortunately my husband was not here to see it all. I have, however, emailed him cancelling our tentative drinks date for tonight on the basis of having too much housework to do.

while I know my anger and tears are irrational (I get like this at least once each month, about five days before my period) I do have a point; in my week off I have done all the dishes, all the cooking, supervised various things to do with the renovation and am about to do another huge pile of washing while the last lot I washed a week ago still sits on the bed in the spare room.

emptying the dishwasher and putting clean washing away are his jobs. sorting, washing, hanging out and bringing in the washing, cooking and washing any delicate dishes are my jobs. when we drew up a schedule for household work, I knowingly took on twice as much as him, because it would have been an improvement. he has an uncanny male ability to just see straight through things. I think what really got me was that he did a load of washing last night; but when I opened the machine, I found it was just a load of his shirts. nothing else. should I hang them on the line or squash them firmly into a plastic back, stick a rock on them and leave them out in the sun so they go all wrinkled and musty?

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