Since Judgment Day is coming, I'll share my Judgment Day fantasy.

First, I am not religious. I believe that spiritual texts contain many powerful metaphors for things that are largely unknown, unseen or otherwise beyond our grasp. I generally respect each person's right to interpret as they see fit, as long as they don't hurt other people, etc. etc.

But I've often had a fantasy about Judgment Day. Because I wasn't raised in any religious tradition, my fantasy is pretty disconnected from the resurrection of the dead, second coming of Christ and judgment of the nations. In my fantasy, the world ends and everyone is waiting in a long line to come before God and be personally judged. My husband and I are in line together. When we reach God, God has an inventory of every bit of housework I did and every bit of housework he did during our life together as a couple, and proves definitively,once and for all, that I have done 10 times as many dishes, 20 times as much laundry, 90% of all bathroom cleaning, 60% of garbage and recycling take-out, 10 times as much meal preparation, 80% of the sweeping, mopping, dusting and vacuuming 70% of the cat box cleaning and 100% of the window cleaning. The inventory will also show that he did 75% of the yard work, but BFD!

My darling husband has such a distorted view of how much each of us does. If he does something once, he despises and resents the work so much, it feels like he did it 10 times. If I do something 10 times, he doesn't notice. But if I don't do something once, it's like I never do it ever. At one point, I instituted a housework log so we could look at the end of each week and see how much each of us did. This was not good for our marriage at all.

Sigh.

EDIT: typo

I do all the cooking because he can't cook. He has no idea what goes with what or even how simple cooking techniques work. He is, however, cognizant that I do all the cooking (and shopping and meal planning) and if I don't feel like doing it, he "cooks" by ordering carryout or taking us out to dinner. This may be problematic if/when our house is ever done and we move to the hill ... Eh, Saratoga isn't that long a drive.

Most men only see certain things as dirty or untidy. If that intrudes on 'their' area - even if it's their fault - much pouting can ensue. Like most tantrums, ignoring it until it passes helps. So does Ativan.

My husband can cook. He's just unhappy.

Unhappy comes in a lot of flavors. If his is the serious kind, he needs to be urged to see someone with an expensive degree. I make mine take St John's wort because it's fucking impossible to make him see a doctor and it seems to be harmless. That last part is anecdotal, not advice. :-)

If he's just unhappy because you want some help around the house, well, tough shit. Time to grow up, Bucky! You may have to trick him into though - I have wastebaskets EVERYWHERE for example, so I don't have to play trash hunter. I know there's some things he'll never do (cook, vacuum) so I have him him take out the trash and recycling (pain in the ass for me to do), trained him to put plates in the sink and food back from where he got it, etc ... Decide what you can live with and work on what will lead to face-stabbing, because you BOTH being unhappy is bad, mmmkay?

And don't forget the Ativan.

...because he hated his job, and now he doesn't have a job and he's having a hard time finding work and shaping his work life into something that's viable and livable.

But honestly, for the most part we have it pretty good.

Thanks again.

there's no food on the table, you can write your name in the dust on the coffee table; there's a ring in the bathtub and the toilet looks like something you'd find in a truck stop; the garbage is piling up and the litter box makes your eyes water -- then he might notice.

Of course, you'd have to be able to tolerate a certain amount of disorder to make your point. But it might work.

I'm not saying your list of what would become unbearable in short order isn't correct. Some men focus more on the outdoors which is self-cleaning. Sometimes women enslave ourselves.

More than half of the stuff we think 'must be done' are memories of what we were taught growing up 'had' to be done. Some men are only tolerating what we do, that they consider frivolous or inane.

I started tossing out all the non-essentials and spending time outside with the yard work. It was a lot more fun and as he wanted to spend more time with me, he helped me with the housework.

here is an old English folk song 'Father Grumble'. There are related songs that go back to the 15th century!

ather Grumble

There was an old man who lived in the wood, as you can plainly see
He said he could do more work in a day than his wife could do in three
"If that be true," the old woman said "this you must allow;
You must do my work for a day, while I go drive the plow."

"And you must milk the teeny cow, for fear she will go dry
And you must feed the little pigs that lay within the sty
And you must watch the speckled hen, for fear she'll go astray
And you must wind the bobbin of yarn that I spun yesterday."

The old woman took the sack in her hands and she went to drive the plow
The old man he picked up the pail and he went to milk the cow
But Tiny hitched and Tiny twitched, and Tiny cocked her nose
And Tiny gave the man such a kick that the blood ran down his clothes

"Now stay my good cow, and hold my good cow, and please good cow, stand still!
If I ever milk this cow again, it will be against my will."
But Tiny hitched and Tiny twitched, and Tiny cocked her nose
And Tiny gave the old man such a kick that the blood ran down to his toes.

And when he milked the tiny cow for fear she would go dry
Well then he fed the little pigs that lay within the sty
He went to feed the little pigs that lay within the sty
But the old sow ran up against his legs and she knocked him ten feet high

And then he watched the speckled hen for fear she'd go astray
But he forgot the reel of yarn that his wife spun yesterday
He swore by all the stars in the sky, and all the leaves on the trees
That his wife could do more work in a day than he could do in three

He swore by all the leaves on the trees and all the stars in Heaven
That his wife could do more work in a day than he could do in seven

I've never seen that before. Thanks so much.

WHAT is God's ruling?

For me, God would banish us to a small cabin in the snowy woods of main with just a wood stove for heat. My husband would be forced to wear several layers of clothing while chopping wood all day while I would finally be able to wear a sweater and have coffee on a snow-covered deck with my eight or ten dogs nearby. Heaven.

For me, heaven is just my husband simply acknowledging that all his perceptions during his lifetime were totally warped and I have always been right about everything.

Just kidding. But it would be satisfying to have him recognize how much I do.