I had a meltdown last week. On November first to be exact. I was tired of doing the laundry every single weekend. Bored of doing all the cooking all the time. Exhausted by the litter boxes and garbage cans. It wasn’t that I thought kisa wasn’t doing his share, not pulling his weight, as they say. I just was sick of being upset when I didn’t get to these never-ending chores. I wanted to lapse into indifference and shrug at the dust in the corners. I wanted to let the pasta sauce crust and harden in the pan. Let the plants go dry for once. Question was, could I do it? Could I really go on strike? I was curious to see what would happen if I did the chores usually set aside for my husband – feeding and medicating the cats, vacuuming, taking out the trash…What would happen if I went on strike from my routine? Would Kisa resume the responsibility or would we both take a holiday from the weekly grind? What would happen really?
In a word, nothing. I found myself stressing about meals if we didn’t have plans for take out or order in. I watched myself break down and cook even when part of me didn’t want to. Kisa was clueless so dinner was never waiting for me. It was always, “what do you want to do for dinner?” Finding Jones had crapped on the floor again I cleaned his litter box without a second thought. Sigh. So much for letting go. The only chore I have truly left alone is laundry. Three baskets are now filled to overflowing. Here’s the kicker – the weekend is almost upon me. It’s like a soap opera – Will I wash and dry or will I be able to ignore it for another week? Oh, the drama.