If this were the 1950's I'd probably be a single mum as my husband/de-facto would have cracked the shits long ago at my failing.That is, I fail at being a housewife.
I don't cook. It's not that I can't cook, I did live by myself and had to cook most nights. It's that I can't be bothered to cook. I don't enjoy it one bit. I like eating and I swear it tastes so much better if I've managed to skip doing the cooking process. When I do cook it's simple meals like pasta, curry from the bottle with rice, sausages or vegies and mash. Lufflump always snacks throughout the day with a big breakfast and lunch. For dinner he'll push away anything cooked (except pizza, chips or sausages - what's with kids?) for a sandwich, apple, orange or yoghurt. If I do cook we eat around 4:30/5:00 as any time after that it's not happening.
I don't iron. I think I've ironed two things in my life and they ended up more wrinkled then they were before. I know the whole 'practice makes perfect' and I throw the whole 'the wrinkled look is a new trend' back at you. The mister irons. He irons his work shirt every day. If I want something ironed and he isn't available I turn to the dryer. It works most times and the times it doesn't I wear something else. During the floods I even tried giving the iron away. I put it with our charity pile and got a stern talking to from the mister. I told him I don't use it and it's just taking up space, he told me he does use it. In my defense I also put my hairdryer in the charity pile then remembered I use it about once a year so it's back in our bathroom with the iron taking up space.
I don't mop or vacuum. It bores me. One of my roles in my last job was to mop and vacuum the office every Friday. Most appointments and days off I had just happened to be on Fridays. I hate how bulky it all is, just to get started takes five minutes. By then I'm over it. When I begin I have every intention of doing every room amazingly. I do the walls, corners, ceiling, I move furniture, I get into hard annoying places of one room. Then I'm over it. One room always looks amazing while every other room looks just clean. I always vacuum/mop to music and it never helps. The noise and machines get in the way of dancing around listening to loud, fun music. It frustrates me and I do a quick, shit job. Then I dance and sing.
I hate washing. When I was 34 weeks pregnant with Lufflump we moved houses. I washed every bit of material in that place. Anything new went straight into the wash. I was so addicted to washing I even handwashed daily. When he was born and I finished nesting I realised that my love for washing had been washed out of my system. It's not the washing part I hate, the machine is kind enough to do that for me. It's what the machine doesn't do that I hate, the hanging out, folding and putting away. It never ends. When I think it's ended Lufflump will spill something all over himself or wee on the bed. So many times we've had nothing in our drawers to wear and clean clothes just piled up in baskets giving me death stares and taunting my lack of housewife tendencies. Washing can be a tormenting asshole.
I don't make the bed. I know it makes the whole room look wonderful but with lufflump sometimes having naps in our bed it's easier to not make the bed, just put him down and the blankets over him. His bed is always made though, it's easier than our bed though. I know it's so easy, especially as we don't use a top sheet but I have better things to do. Like spend time on twitter, pinterest or blog. That's not being lazy, it's being time wise. Right!?
Would you still be in a relationship or would you be single like me based on your housework?