I hate grocery shopping. It’s my least favorite chore. It takes hours, there are too many people, and too often I’m reminded of my ingredient ignorance. How was I supposed to know there’s a difference between baking powder and baking soda?
The other day as I was reflecting on this dreaded chore, I wondered what my wife would say. What responsibility makes her groan inside? Changing poopy diapers? Putting the silverware away? Cleaning the bathroom sink after I’ve forgotten to wipe away my recently shaved stubble?
Do you know what your wife would say? Men, this is a great place where you can step up to the plate and serve your wife. Show how much you love her and take responsibility for her least favorite chore.
A few weeks ago, I asked my wife about the chore that makes her cringe. Her answer? Folding clean clothes – because laundry is a never-ending job.
After I expressed my desire to serve her by handling that job, I could tell that she was quickly weighing her options. Once the Hallelujah Chorus stopped playing in her heart, she had a flashback to my days as a bachelor. When it came to folding socks, I only had one rule – toss them in the green bin under my bed. I hated folding socks, and as long as I grabbed two of the same color in the morning, I didn’t care if they were the same size or style. I mean, really, when I’m wearing jeans and shoes, all anybody can see is about a half-inch of color. Can I get an amen?
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been folding clothes in the evening and on weekends. And I’ve learned a few things. First, although I don’t always fold the clothes correctly or put them in the right drawer, my efforts bring a smile to my wife’s face.
And second, folding a pile of toddler and baby clothes can last as long as two NFL football games. Even a small pile contains six bibs, a dozen shirts, and five thousand, two hundred and ninety-three tiny socks, none of which match.
I never should have let my wife get rid of that green bin.