Kelly is messy. Extremely messy. And I knew that. And I moved into a very messy house. Very messy. The messiest place I ever lived.

And she's so lazy when it comes to cleaning.

It's not a good mix.

Back at the old house there was only so much I could do because most of it wasn't my stuff. It was hers and the roommates. So I cleaned what I could. Did the dishes, swept, mopped, did laundry, picked up all the coins Kelly lost.

And Kelly lost a lot of coins. She still does. You can follow a trail of Kelly in the house by the piles of coins. And the thing is, we've got fucking banks IN EVERY ROOM SHE COULD POSSIBLY LOSE COINS.

We have a bank in the bathroom, for hell's sake. And the coins still end up on the floor. I picked up like... three dollars in change last night. And I bet if I check around the house now, there will be at least a dollar on the floor.

The thing is, I have no right being angry about being the only one who cleans. I knew she was like this. But I figured moving into a new place would make things a lot easier, because we could simplify and both start off with a clean place.

I even told Kelly I couldn't take living like we were living in a new place, and she said it would be better. And I believed.

This is the cycle my mind goes through: I'm going to clean and then we'll just maintain the cleaning. Oh, hell, she's just leaving the dishes out and the bottles and the laundry, she can pick it up this time. Hey, it's been a while since we cleaned. Hell, if she's not going to, I'm not going to, I'm tired of cleaning.

I'm in the fuck it stage right now.

It's my vacation. I should be relaxing. And I have been. But I've also done a stupid amount of cleaning, and I still have shit to do. I've done like five loads of laundry. I've done two loads of dishes. I've vacuumed the entire apartment. I've dusted.

I'm a fucking brilliant housewife.

And then I feel bad about getting angry about being the only one who cleans.

For a long time Kelly only had a part time job. So I would work 50+ hours a week and come home at night and spend an hour cleaning and she would work 30 hours and have worked four hours that same day and when I asked what she did all night this would be the response:

"I took a nap. And I sorted cards. And I watched Golden Girls."

And I would get angry. Fucking cut some of that shit out one night and clean the bathroom.

And I would get angry at myself for thinking that.

And there was a time when she was jobless, for about a week or so, between jobs, and she didn't clean AT ALL.

And I would get angry all over.

And now that she has a full time job it's even worse, because she has an excuse. She gets tired working so much and comes home and sleeps until I come home, and then I get home and want to clean but she just wants to "spend time" with me.

We've talked and talked and talked about this.

And I feel like I'm her parent if I say "hey, you need to clean your room."

So I say, "hey, could you do the dishes for me?"

I have to go out of town for training in two weeks and I'm looking forward to it because I will be in a hotel room and the hotel room will be clean and neat and I won't have to fight two battles to keep it that way.

And I guarantee that when I come back the house will look just like when I left it.

I love Kelly. She is my heart.

But you know what I have to do now? After I post this?

I have to finish cleaning the bathroom and the kitchen.