Last night my husband washed one pan.
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?
Now the comments get a turn.
Read the room, state your case, and try not to become the reason the next submission exists.