“There’s something you do that really annoys me.”
We’d just finished dinner on a random Tuesday, and I was all ears.
My husband never complains. Like, never.
And he was about to drop a bomb.
“My laundry. You clean it and fold it. But then you never put it away. You put everyone else’s away. But you leave mine on the bed.”
Are you kidding me?
I totally laughed.
But then I thought a little bit more about it.
And (just like our master shower argument), I totally knew what he meant.
I wasn’t considering him.
He can do it himself, I often thought.
I do enough.
But then I thought about it a little more.
I take care of the kids, the house, the laundry, the dishes, everything. And he’s getting the leftovers. The scraps. And really, the crap.
Of course, the truth is I barely get the clothes folded each day, much less distributed to the correct room. And by the time I get to our room, I have a few seconds to throw my clothes in a drawer before a kid runs in, with a sword or open Sharpie, or about to body check the baby before I abort the mission and shuffle the kids back into the living room.
(Aaaaaand, if you really want to get technical, his drawers are also really disorganized and nothing’s folded right. So to put any clean clothes in the drawers, I have to just stuff them in.)
It’s kind of a pain.
It’s a burden.
And, well… I just don’t feel like it.
And so, each night, after his 10-hour work day, my husband walked into our bedroom to see a big pile of I-don’t-care-about-you sitting on our bedspread. A pile of perfectly-folded khakis, polo shirts and white undershirts that, to him, made a statement.
You’re not important enough.
And so, I changed.
And it was literally so easy.
The next day while he was at work, I took everything out of his drawers and spent 20 minutes reorganizing them. Nice shorts, workout shorts, polo shirts, casual shirts, everything had its place. There were a few things I thought he’d want to give away, and so I kept those in a pile for him to approve later.
That was it.
And, from then on, I took that extra step and put his clothes away too.
It adds about 60 seconds to my day.
But it makes him feel important.
And that matters.