At From Beer To Paternity Towers we share the housework. This means that every week I do the hoovering and the dusting and take the rubbish and the recycling out... and the Missus cleans the bathrooms once a month... but only when it looks like they will collapse under the weight of their own grime.
So I'm hoovering the house and she asks me what I'm doing.
'What does it look like I'm doing?'
'But your hay fever is really bad.'
'House dust doesn't trigger hay fever.'
'But it may make yours worse.'
'It won't...'
'Well I think you should stop.'
'If I stop it won't get done.'
'Well make yourself ill. See if I care...'
And with that she strops off. I give it a few moments thought and think about calling a halt to my domestic chores. But it is true... if I don't do it no other sod will so I continue on my merry way ignoring the occasional harumphing coming from upstairs.
Then it hits me. I am the only husband in the world who can be criticised for doing too much housework. I am blessed. Truly blessed...
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