Arrrr, Its Driving Me Nuts.

Said the pirate with a steering wheel popping out of his waistband.

I hear ya buddy.

So the Muse and I are thinking about moving in together. There was a short checklist of things she had to prove she could do, given that she is significantly younger than I am, and thus has no proveable history.

Can you keep a real job? Check.
Can you handle your own personal responsibilities (rent/bills/etc)? Check.
Can you live in the same space as me for a prolonged period without turning homicidal? Check.
Can you turn your natural taste in music up without me wanting to harm myself or others? Check.
Can we sleep in the same bed and actually get some sleep? Check.

That last one is actually quite important. If you're in with a heavy snorer, sleep-puncher or generally restless person, its a long freaking haul. I kid you not.

Can we keep a presentable house? Ummm. Please define.
Can we keep a presentable house in which I am not doing 98 percent of the housework?

Epic Fail.

For all kinds of reasons. For starters, she doesn't actually live there yet. Secondly, I am not a paragon of clean myself. Thirdly, we have a difference of understanding as to what 'clean' actually is, and fourthly, fuck me if I can brooch the subject without sounding like a condescending asshole.

Oh I start well enough, and with good intentions, but before I actually reach the subject, I get sidetracked into any one of a few possible areas, and let my growing distaste for the situation loose on items that are completely irrelevant. In the end, it sounds like I'm not happy with her, as a person, when in fact, it is just one section- but an important one.

Fighting about chores seems like a stupid fight to me. There are far more important things in a relationship that need to be done well. And they are. But all things being handled, the eye turns to the next most irritating factor, and well... there it is.

Arg. How did this get so complicated? She's already nervous and anxious about doing anything in my home. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the kind of person who has to have all the mug handles pointed north or anything, and really anything is better than nothing.

Am I selfish for wanting this to occur? I spend up to ten hours a week doing chores. I cook, I clean, I do laundry. I tidy, I water, I build, I vacuum, I reno, I do garbage, I make the bed. I clean up all of her messes and all of mine.

I suddenly realize why every homemaker bitches at thier husband for not putting in thier fair share, because I have to tell you, when everybody puts in eight to twelve hours on a workday, those few extra hours of help are at a goddamn premium.

Is this going to be my life? Doing everything by myself, and/or bitching/training someone else to pitch in, having to double-check every time to make sure its done right, or even done at all? I keep waiting for the light to turn on, but nothing. And I become just a little more jaded and bitter every day.

This is my kharma, bitch slapping me for sure. I have been that guy who did nothing. I let messes grow, and I let my unwillingness to clean up messes I didn't make to justify not helping at all. I played ignorant when really I just didn't want to get involved, comfortable that someone else handled that sort of thing for me. I found better and more entertaining things to do, and convinced myself that minor, specialist work made up for simple but time-consuming labour.

To all the women that had to deal with that from me, I apologize. I did not know just how much that affected your frame of mind, or your willingness to participate in other things. I was selfish, self-centered, and pretty much a jerk about the whole thing. My bad. I was a dink, and I am sorry. I promise going forward I will be more open-minded, fair about the things I expect, and the expectations I have of others.

If it is any consolation, I expect to be in your situation for some time. It is the suck. The deserved, and well deserved, suck. It is going to take quite some time to pay this particular kharmic load off, but I guess I had it coming. I will try to complain less, and keep this lesson in mind.

Poetic justice is less cool when you are dealing with the justice and not admiring the poetry.