I was growing tired of cleaning up after my mate.
Itd be easier to throw you out, get a divorce and finally get the flat tidy! Then I could even marry you again, if you like Emily snapped, her voice sharp.
Hold on, love! No need for drastic measures Mark grinned, leaning back in his chair. Im just sitting here doing nothing!
Exactly! You do nothing! At least you dont get in the way when youre not helping! she shot back.
Where am I getting in the way? Mark asked, puzzled. Im curled up like a mouse at my computer, not broadcasting any signals!
Emily pointed at the desk.
That mug! she said.
Thats my tea, Mark replied, raising his cup.
And the other one behind the monitor? she asked, irritation clear in her tone. Ive been gathering all your mugs since dawn!
Thats my halffinished coffee, Mark smiled. Ill finish it, dont worry! I treat cold coffee just as well as hot, maybe even better. Ill carry the mugs to the kitchen myself, proper gentleman style!
Really? Emily raised an eyebrow.
Absolutely! he nodded. Ill even wash them!
Id love to believe you, but experience tells me youre lying! Finish that coffee right now and hand over the mug!
Im drinking tea, Mark stammered. I dont want to mix them
Emily let out a heavy sigh, then walked over to check how much coffee was left. If there were three drops, shed be happy to sacrifice them.
Mark, are you joking? Emily exclaimed. The mug isnt just empty, the coffee residue has already dried up! What were you planning to finish?
Seriously? Mark looked surprised. The flat feels so dry! There was coffee here yesterday! We need a humidifier!
Mark, what should we buy so youll actually tidy up after yourself? Emily leaned against the back of his chair. What are you going to do! she shouted, almost into his ear. Mark! And whats this?
Its a water cup! he answered. You never 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! Emily replied. And if you put a bottle next to you, youll just finish it faster. Too much fizz isnt good for you!
Hence the cup! Mark said.
Emily realised shed have to collect the mugs by the computer again. The cleaning wasnt over, and she still had work to do. As she left the room she noticed her husbands odd posture.
She didnt waste time, went back, pulled the chair back and rolled it out with Mark still in it.
Smells like divorce! she declared, fierce.
Its just a biscuit, Mark said, looking as innocent as ever.
Not even on a plate, just on your lap! And crumbs are already on the floor! Ive just vacuumed! she raised her voice with each sentence, getting more worked up.
Ill clean it! Mark agreed.
He tried to brush the biscuit off his leg, but it slipped betrayingly onto the floor and shattered into pieces.
Mark closed his eyes, expecting a broom, a rag, a mop or even the vacuum to swoop in, but nothing happened. He dared to open one eye.
Emily sat on the sofa, hands clasped over her head.
Im exhausted by all this, she said, her voice strained. Four people live in this flat, two of them are kids! But you, the grownup, sensible, notstupid man, leave the most rubbish! You should set an example! Yet Im constantly cleaning up after you endless mugs everywhere, plates, saucers, candy wrappers mysteriously ending up between couch cushions, crumbs on the table! Have we even had a cockroach problem lately?
Ill buy chalk! Molly, Mark replied apologetically, but Emily didnt hear him.
Even when you throw away rubbish you cant get it into the bin! Is it so hard to see whether its in or out? If not, just toss it in! Your back wont break if you bend down and pick it up!
Emily lowered her arms, looked Mark straight in the eyes.
And that chocolate bar you hid under the pillow? Ill never forgive you for that! It was my favourite!
Mark blushed, genuinely ashamed, and bitter that his wife was so upset because of him.
Emily! he said, his voice soft. My love!
Her hurt turned into resolve.
In a week Im off on holiday for three weeks, and well go to my mums with the kids. If when we get back the flat looks like a pigsty, Ill divorce you! I cant keep putting up with this. I finish cleaning and then have to start all over again because of you!
Mark stared at her in horror.
At least clear the mugs and sweep up the biscuit crumbs, please!
He obeyed immediately, though he didnt truly believe shed leave with the children for three weeks. He thought she was just bluffing.
She did go. She even showed the return tickets shed bought in advance. Mark would have to spend three lonely weeks in his prideful solitude. The prospect terrified him.
Before she left, Emily finally put the flat in order and warned:
If its still a mess when you get back, you can file for divorce yourself! My patience has run out!
—
Men have a curious notion of cleanliness.
Some men keep everything spotless and even demand it, knowing how to maintain it. But most dont rank tidiness high on their list, and cleanliness itself is a vague concept.
A stray piece of paper that doesnt bother the eye can sit until the next planned cleanup, or be nudged under a sofa with a foot. Dust on the TV or monitor is only wiped when the paint fades or a sunbeam highlights the layer, making it look like a love note. A bit of sand on the floor isnt much trouble if youre wearing slippers, unless you slip on it in a turn.
And we wont even speak of dishes, mugs, forks, spoons and pans waiting their turn at the sink.
Why waste effort on one tiny thing? Better to gather it all and make the chore feel like a Herculean feat, not just a routine washup!
Debates over misplaced items could last a lifetime. Maybe the thing moved to a new address? Pants on a chair might be in place, but theyll grow bored in the wardrobe.
Mark was exactly the type of man who placed cleanliness low on his priorities, and to his wife, a piglets level.
He could cook, fix things, and even do chores on a whim, as if it were a hobby. Yet he couldnt always match desire with possibility. Hed want to clean the stove, but Emily would already have a pot on it. He couldnt help without getting in the way, and his bursts of motivation were rare.
Emily often demanded action when Mark had neither mood nor desire, yet he had to comply. When his spirit rose from nowhere, there was nothing left to do.
Otherwise, Mark was a solid family man. He worked well, earned a decent wage, loved his wife, adored his children, and earned extra cash on the side. His only bad habit was gaming, which Emily could easily distract him from if needed.
When Emily made impulsive purchases, Mark would philosophically shrug, Its a woman thing! When she came home from work in a sour mood, Mark would take the blow, listen, and empathise, even scolding her colleagues in his mind.
The family was good, apart from one thing: Marks attitude to tidiness. He should have cleaned himself, but it always fell to Emily.
And Emily already had enough on her platetwo daughters who played with their dad while she bore the brunt of the mess.
Driven to the edge, Emily decided either to reeducate her husband into a tidy man or to protect her own nerves and stop repeating the endless cleanup cycle.
—
A week before returning, Emily called Mark.
How are you holding up?
Fine, Mark answered.
Youve got a week! Im just giving you a headsup, alright?
All good here!
She called again three days before, then two, then one, each time warning that if he hadnt tidied up after his solo stint, he still had time to fix it.
Honestly, Emily missed Mark terribly. Theyd never been apart more than a week since they married, and now it was three weeks!
She warned him to avoid any reason for divorce, even though she was ready to forgive, even if the flat turned into a pigsty.
No scandal, no sanctionsjust a firm warning.
Finally, after dropping the kids off at the playground and sharing travel stories with friends, Emily entered the flat
Mr. Thompson, youve surprised me! she exclaimed brightly.
And you, Miss Edwards, have not! Mark retorted sternly. Its like that joke you always tell!
Which one? Emily asked, puzzled.
Ive lived alone for three weeks! I used one saucepan and one frying pan, washing them before each use. One plate, one fork, one spoonalso washed before each meal. I used just two mugs: one for tea, one for coffee. I drank water, fizzy drinks, and juice from bottles that I tossed out on the way to work! Thats the habit youve ingrained in me over the years!
Before she arrived, I walked round the flat with the vacuum. All tidy!
And whats the point of all that? Emily asked cautiously.
That Im not the one creating the mess! Mark declared confidently. 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 Emily began, grasping at a straw.
If you hadnt meddled in my cleaning and didnt stick your nose where it wasnt asked, thered be no problem at all!
The next day the flat was a mess, as usual. Yet Emily started cleaning, fully aware that Mark wasnt the main piglet in the house.
The kids, of course, she thought. Theyll have to help too. After all, theyre the ones who make the mess, and we, the parents, have to tidy up.
