One.

Then he came into the living room and said, “I cleaned the kitchen for you.” Sir. The kitchen still had plates, cups, crumbs, a sticky mystery by the stove and a fork somehow under the toaster.

He washed the pan he needed for eggs in the morning.

I said thanks, because apparently I was raised by women who wanted peace more than justice.

Then he got irritated that I did not seem grateful enough. I have cleaned that kitchen roughly four thousand times without holding a press conference.

Am I supposed to clap because he briefly encountered soap?

The post Should My Husband Get Credit for One Damn Dish? appeared first on Mom WTF!.

It is cracked, stained, smells weird when the room gets warm and makes a noise like a dying accordion.

He says it is comfortable. Of course it is. It has slowly formed around his body like a fossil.

I found two socks, forty three cents, an old beef stick wrapper and something I chose not to identify under the cushion.

He says the chair has sentimental value because we had it when the kids were little. So did we have a diaper pail. We did not keep that in the living room.

Can I arrange an accidental curbside disappearance?

The post Do I Throw Out His Disgusting Chair? appeared first on Mom WTF!.

Two days later, they vanished.

I found them folded in the top of my husband’s closet. He said he was saving them for guests because the kids would ruin them.

We have guests maybe twice a year. Meanwhile, I am drying myself with a towel that has one absorbent corner and a bleach stain shaped like Florida.

I bought the towels. I live here. I would like to experience them before a distant cousin does.

Is saving the good towels normal, or has my house become a tiny hotel where the residents get the damaged linens?

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