Enough of cleaning up after you, Emma snapped, her voice cracking like glass. Id rather kick you out, divorce, then finally get the house in order. Then maybe I could even marry you again!
Hold on, love, dont be so rash, Mark chuckled, leaning back in his battered desk chair. Im just sitting here doing nothing!
Thats exactly the pointdoing nothing! At least, when you dont help you dont get in the way, Emma shot back.
What am I getting in the way of? Mark asked, genuinely puzzled. Ive curled up like a mouse at my computer, not even sending a signal!
Your mug! Emma pointed at the cup perched beside the keyboard.
Thats my tea, Mark replied, taking a sip.
And the second one, under the monitor? Her tone dripped with irritation. Ive been gathering all your cups since sunrise!
Thats my unfinished coffee, Mark grinned. Ill finish it, dont worry! I treat cold coffee the same as hotactually, I prefer it colder. Ill even carry them to the kitchen myself, like a proper gentleman.
Is that so? Emma raised an eyebrow.
Dead certain, Mark nodded. And Ill wash them too!
I want to believe you, but experience tells me youre lying, Emma said, her confidence steely. Finish that coffee and hand the mug over right now!
Its tea Im drinking, Mark stammered, flustered. I dont want to mix them
A heavy sigh escaped Emmas lips. She rose, walked over, and peered into the cup. If only three drops remained, she could sacrifice them.
Mark, are you having a laugh? Emma shouted, exasperated. The mug isnt just emptyits coffee residues long gone dry! What on earth were you going to finish?
Youre serious? Mark blinked. The flat is so dry! There was coffee here yesterday. We need a humidifier!
Mark, what should we buy so youll actually clean up after yourself? Emma leaned against the back of his chair. What are you going to do? she hissed, almost whispering in his ear. Mark! And whats this?
Its a water mug, Mark answered. You wont even let me bring a bottle in here, so I have to make do with halfmeasures!
Because the fizzy drinks are for everyone, not just you! Emma retorted. If you leave a bottle next to you, youll finish it anyway. Too much soda is bad for you!
Thats why the mug! Mark said defensively.
Emma realised shed have to gather the mugs around the computer again. The cleaning wasnt done yet, and she still had work to do. As she turned to leave the room, she caught a bizarre pose from her husband.
Not one to quit, she went back, grabbed the chairs arm, and pulled ittaking Mark with it.
Smell that? Its the scent of divorce! she thundered.
Its only a biscuit, Mark replied, feigning innocence.
Not even on a plateright on your lap! And crumbs are already on the floor! Ive just vacuumed! Emmas voice rose with each accusation.
Ill clean up! Mark shouted.
He tried to brush the biscuit off his knee, but it slipped betrayingly onto the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.
Mark shut his eyes tight, expecting a broom, a rag, a mop, maybe even a vacuum to be thrust at him. Nothing came. He dared to open one eye.
Emma sat on the sofa, her hands cradling her head.
Im exhausted, she whispered, voice cracking. Four people live in this flat, two of them are children! But the biggest mess you leave, Mark, is yoursan adult, capable, sensible man!
You should set an example! Im constantly tripping over your stuff while I clean! Cups everywhere, plates, saucers! Candy wrappers magically end up between the sofa cushions!
Endless crumbs on the table! Have we even got roaches yet?
Ill buy a small chalkboard, Molly, Mark said apologetically, but Emma didnt hear him.
You cant even toss rubbish in the bin! Can you see if it lands inside? If not, just throw it in! Your back wont break if you bend down and pick it up!
Emma lowered her arms and stared straight into Marks eyes.
And that chocolate bar you hid under the pillow? Ill never forgive you for thatmy favourite!
Mark flushed crimson, shame burning his cheeks. He felt a bitter sting that his wife was so upset because of him.
Emma! he stammered. Emmalove!
Her hurt turned to resolve.
In a week Im off on holidaythree weeks, actually. Ill take the kids to my mums. If when we return the flat looks like a pigsty, Ill divorce you on the spot. I cant bear this any longer. I finish cleaning, then start all over again, because of you!
Mark stared at his wife in horror.
Just nowput the cups away and sweep up the biscuit crumbs, please!
Mark obeyed immediately, although he doubted she would really leave with the children for three weeks. He thought she was just threatening.
She left. She even showed the return tickets shed bought in advance. For three weeks Mark would face proud solitude, a prospect that terrified him.
Before she went, Emma made sure the house was spotless and warned, If its not, you can file for divorce yourself. My patience has snapped!
English men often have peculiar ideas about cleanliness. Some keep everything pristine, demanding order and knowing how to achieve it. But most place cleanliness far down the list of priorities, and the notion of clean is flexible.
A stray piece of paper that doesnt irritate the eye can stay until the next scheduled clean, or be swept under a couch or chair with a casual foot. Dust on the TV or monitor is wiped only when the paint fades or a sunbeam highlights it, turning it into a lovenote canvas. A speck of sand on the floor isnt a problem unless you slip on it while turning a corner in your slippers.
And the endless pile of plates, cups, forks, spoons, and pans waiting by the sink? Forget it.
Why hustle for a single task? Better to gather everything and then make it a Herculean feat, not just a routine washup!
Arguing over misplaced items could last a lifetimemaybe the item changed its address? Pants on a chair suddenly belong there, while in the wardrobe theyll feel lonely.
Mark was the typical bloke with a unique attitude toward tidinesshis wife labelled him a swine!
He could cook, fix things, and even tidy up on a whim, like a hobby, if the mood struck. But often desire and reality clashed. Hed want to scrub the stove, yet Emma would already have a pot bubbling; his noble impulse got blocked by copper cookware. Other tasks never seemed appealing.
His bursts of enthusiasm were rare, and Emma often demanded action when he felt none. Still, when a sudden mood hit, there was nothing left to do!
Outside of that, Mark was a solid family mansteady job, decent pay, money coming home penny by penny. He loved his wife, adored the kids, and took on side gigs. His only vice was video games, which Emma could easily distract him from when needed.
When Emmas impulsive shopping sprees landed extra stuff in the house, Mark would shrug, Thats what women do. When she came home from work in a funk, he would shoulder the blow, listening and empathising, even scolding her colleagues behind their backs.
The family was generally happyexcept for one thing: Marks lax approach to cleaning. If he did it himself, it would be fine, but it always fell to Emma.
She already dealt with two daughters, Lily and Mabel, who only played with dad while Mom shouldered the rest. Pushed to the limit, Emma decided either to reeducate her husband to respect order or to spare her nerves and stop the endless cycle of cleaning after him.
A week before she was due to return, Emma called Mark.
Hows it going over there?
Fine, he said.
Youve got a week leftjust a headsup.
Everythings fine here.
She called three days before, then two, then one, reminding him that if he hadnt tidied up after his solitary stay, there was still time.
Honestly, Emma missed Mark terribly. Theyd never been apart more than a week since their wedding, and now three weeks loomed. She warned him not to give her any reason to file for divorce, even though she was ready to forgive if the flat turned into a pigsty.
The final moment arrived. Emma, after dropping the kids at the playground and chatting with friends about her trip to her mothers, climbed the stairs to the flat.
Constantine, youve surprised me! she exclaimed, her voice bright.
And you havent surprised me, Emma, Mark retorted, stiff as a board. Just like that joke you told me!
What joke? Emma asked, baffled.
Ive lived alone for three weeks! I used one pot and one pan, washed them before cooking. One plate, one fork, one spoonwashed before each meal. Two cups totalone for tea, one for coffee. I drank water, fizzy drinks, and juice from bottles I tossed on my way to work! Thats what youve been preaching all these years!
And what does that prove? Emma asked warily.
That the mess isnt my doing! Mark declared. For the record, you and the kids love sweets! That chocolate bar you still blame me for? You hid it when you were on a diet, and I kept quiet!
But you still leave Emma began, grabbing at a straw.
If you didnt meddle, if you didnt stick your nose where I wasnt asked, none of this would happen!
The next day the flat was a wreck again, as usual. Yet Emma began cleaning with the full knowledge that Mark wasnt the sole pig in the house.
The kids, of course, she muttered. Theyre the kids! Well have to get them involved, tooif theyre the first to make a mess, theyll be the first to clean up.
