Jeremy informed me today that folding clothes was woman's work.
This is the same guy who no longer does the dishes or wipes the counter tops that he destroys or clean the bathroom.
He also doesn't empty his own lunch box, makes his own breakfast, lunch or supper.
Nor does he vacuum the floors, take out the trash, dust the furniture or do the laundry.
Apparently all that stuff must be woman's work too.
But I'm tired of complaining to him. I'm done begging him for his help. And I'm over hearing about how tired he is every night but manages to have enough energy to muster a 2+ hour computer game session because that is how he relaxes. Laying on the couch with me watching mindless television is apparently too much work for him.
I even asked him yesterday to just be with me and he declined stating playing his game is how he relaxes. Yep, I'm #1, most important person in his life. Don't you wish we could stand in my shoes?
So I'm turning over a new leaf. Let him go to work then come home, give the kid a bath and, after we put her to bed, hop on the computer for the next several hours. I will not utter another word of disapproval in his direction.
I guess its time I get back to doing the 1950s version of a woman's job. All the work, none of the thanks because, apparently, this is my lot in life.
I really hate how he, sometimes, makes me feel like my life is meaningless.