I like to think of myself as a modern kind of husband, willing to share the burden of running a house evenly with Melissa. I don't mind cooking tea if I'm home first, I don't mind doing the shopping if Melissa happens to be working on a Saturday, I don't mind cleaning and I will, if I'm pushed, even do the ironing.
Most people I speak to seem to think this is a good thing. However, for Melissa things aren't quite that straightforward. When I do the ironing, I never put things away 'in the right place'; when I do the cooking, it's never what she fancies; and if I do the shopping, I don't buy enough yogurts.
My one trump card has always been the cleaning. It's always been the one area I was beyond reproach... until Sunday.
In an effort to get all the rubbish jobs out of the way on Sunday morning, I grabbed the cleaner and proceeded to give the bathroom a good going over. Having completed this not-particularly-pleasant-for-a-Sunday task, I proceeded to inform Melissa, thinking she would be pleased.
How wrong I was. She immediately walked into the bathroom and began scrutinising the towel radiator. When I asked her what she was doing, she replied that she was checking to see if I'd cleaned properly.
So now not even my cleaning is up to scratch. Perhaps I should take the advice of a good friend of mine who, when asked how he got away without doing any housework, explained: "I did it once, very, very badly, and have not been asked since. Whenever I offer to help, I'm always told to stick to doing what I do best - sitting in front of the TV." Nice work if you can get it.
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