In Praise of Doing “Women’s Work”
At five years old I once refused to help load the dish washer, on account of it being “women’s work.” I’m sure I picked that up from dad, who might have been joking but certainly shouldn’t have been. And now? I’m the one who usually washes the dishes. And cleans the counter and the kitchen table, too. That’s not to say that Melissa is lazy or I’m Super Duper Domestic Guy — far from it. It’s just how I like it now.
With baby, wife and pets, there’s not much time left for the luxury of being alone and maybe getting a chance to listen to my own music. I don’t have enough knowhow or patience to work on my own truck, and modern vehicles are too reliable now for weekly maintenance, anyway. And how many shelves can you build for just one house? So much for hiding out in the garage. And I refuse — absolutely and utterly refuse — to take any pleasure, ever, in yard work. I’d rather do my own dental work, with aluminum tools, than mow a lawn or rake any leaves.
But you know what’s great? Household cleaning. Ironing, especially. I wish I were making this up.
Can’t iron with a two-year-old anywhere near — they’ll grab a good hold of that power cord and give it a solid jerk. And ironing shirts requires too much attention to carry on an adult conversation. Not the way I do it anyway.
I’m not kidding about that attention thing. When I iron, I’m ironing. I used to be so bad that I’d crease and iron the back box pleat, all the way down to the shirttail. At some point around 30, I decided maybe that was taking things a little too far, at least on sport shirts. Dress shirts? Next time you see me in a suit, wait’ll I take off the jacket and check for yourself. Until then, I ain’t sayin’ nothin’.
But give me the bathroom to myself, one of the many For Steve Only playlists on the iPod nestled in its Bose dock speakers, and half a dozen shirts to iron… and for the next hour, I could be 23 for all I care. It’s the same music, the same alone time, and the same (completely anal retentive, perfectionist asshole) activity as I enjoyed those 15 [cough, 16, cough . -ed.] years ago. Ironing is even better than vacuuming, which makes too much noise for a good iPod jam session. (If you prefer a loud stereo to wearing headphones, that is.) Though being all domestic now, I do get to chase the dog around with the damn noisy thing, which is a bit of a plus.
Oh, and, yeah, it really does take me close to an hour to iron six or eight shirts. 40 minutes if I rush. It’s not just because of the box pleats. Take the cuffs, for example. I don’t like to have creases in my cuffs, but I also don’t want the cuffs to wear out prematurely. So — the cuffs get buttoned before they go into the wash, then unbuttoned on the ironing board so I can iron them out flat. Then they get buttoned back up before the shirt goes on the hanger. The sad part is, when I put on a shirt, the first thing I almost always do is… you guessed it: Roll up the cuffs.
Washing dishes rocks, too, it really does. If you’re getting married or already there, buy yourself some Calphalon or other high-quality cookware. The brand name isn’t important. What is important is that you own a lot of stuff you’ll need to hand-wash. A two year old can’t help you with that, and believe me your wife will be happy to leave you be for a while if you’re washing dishes. Is that water too loud to hear the music? Then turn it up! Again, odds are you’ll get no complaints from the missus. I even get away with listening to Steely Dan or Bauhaus real loud when I’m tackling domestic chores. And unlike raking leaves, I don’t have to rake any leaves.
Guys, there’s nothing wrong with doing so-called women’s work. It’s one of your last chances to be a man.
That’s just wrong.
Dude, you’ve been linked.
Tell me you use spray starch.
Where were you when I was on active duty? I hated ironing my stupid 1550 shirts.
Don’t get me wrong I don’t hate kitchen duty. In our house if you cook on it you clean it. But I’ve finally found a company that puts more stock in my product than my attire. It’s a nice “golf shirt” office so Ironing has been replaced (thankfully) by wrinkle free slacks and a few shots of wrinkle release.
Living in Florida, I’ll take the yard work. At least till late June. At that point the cinch bugs can just go ahead and eat the damm lawn.
And the fringe benefits of “boy, do you look sexy doing those dishes, honey!” are beyond measure!
What is this “hand-wash” you speak of? If it doesn’t go in the dishwasher, I won’t own it long.
PS My Calphalon pans said dishwasher safe on the box.
I didn’t know how to do any of it when we got married. Always had someone else to do it for me. Nanny, gardener, garage attendant. I shrunk so many wool sweaters when I was in college that I had the best dressed dolls in the dorm. Cooking? I set macaroni and cheese on fire when we were first married, and a lemon chiffon cake too. I played piano, so doing anything manual like washing dishes or cleaning just about anything was off limits seeing as I could injure my hands… (that was my excuse and I stuck with it!) Vacuuming and dusting were just beneath me, as was mopping and cleaning toilets or whatever. That was for the help to do. (funny fact: I worked in the car business for about a month before my boss figured out that I didn’t know how to put gas in a vehicle!)
I have since reformed, but I still do hate to unload the dishwasher. I’ll load it, but I have 4 kids. I need to get something good out of them, so they have all the icky stuff to do for chores now. Trash duty, unloading the DW, and I have a bunch of little sous chefs.
I do the laundry because I love the way it smells (I got lessons on laundry and cooking. Real professional lessons!) and I love to cook now. Thankfully my kids aren’t picky eaters. I’ll also vacuum and dust and sweep and mop now too because I heard that housework prevents breast cancer… (HA!!)
But, good on you Steven! And it can’t help but make you all the more attractive to your bride (not that you need help in that department) I love when my hubby takes it upon himself to clean up around the house!
Well, being a bachelor I have to wash the dishes if they’re going to get washed, which they need to be if I’m going to cook anything, which I need to do if I’m going to eat. What amazes me is the number of people who find that amusing. Perhaps they only eat takeout and delivery food on paper plates with their fingers or disposable cutlery.
As for ironing, I very much prefer natural fibers, which means I have very few perma-press shirts, so I have to iron them. But not obsessively – I figured out long ago that you do the collar, the placket, the pockets, and for long sleeves the cuffs and that’s good enough. Oh, and if your shirt has epaulets (yeah, I get a lot of safari shirts from Cabela’s) you iron those.
So, I am thinking….are you, or are you not linked to this page?
http://www.extremeironing.com/
I bet I can find your photo on this site somewhere….
ed
Dude – I’ve starched and ironed handkerchiefs. The belts? They get rolled up, fastened with a rubber band, and placed neatly in a drawer.
Dust I can deal with but the stuff i deal with daily? All is placed away and triced up neatly for the next round. If I was blind I could find what I need to get groomed, dressed, and going.
I am so with you on this. I retired less than a year ago, and I am finding things to do around the house to keep me from losing my mind. Laundry. Dishes (with a dishwasher, duh). I tried to draw the line with mowing the lawn, but I got sucked into uprooting dead trees and hauling 60 bags of mulch. Upside: I Am The Shit. The music thing is key. Solitary, focused labor is the mental nectar of the Gods. You are wise not to fight it, my friend. Just keep your iPod turned up to 11 while you are trying to get the wrinkles out of your Tommy Bahamas! How does a dirty martini go with that ironing?
Son, you are slowly, but surely, losing complete and total control. But, as long as you are having a good time and no one gets hurt its OK.
I iron my sheets (flat and fitted) AND pillowcases when I make the bed. Starch is my friend (although not on the sheets and pillowcases). :O)
My husband does his own ironing (he knows I’d never do it), but I don’t think he’s quite got it to the art you have it. He also does yard work! Of course – and here’s the really beauty of our marriage – I’m the one who hooks up all the electrical equipment and navigates, since he readily admits that he cannot hook up the stereo or read a map! Yes, I’m a lucky woman. He also unloads the dishwasher (I load) and sweeps and mops (I vacumn).
The piece de la resistance (my French sucks and I apologize) is this: he is going to school to become a massage therapist. I told him this makes him nearly perfect. He agreed