Ugh ... men

K was in upstate New York last weekend for a bachelor party. Between having friends visiting, getting the house in order post-visit, and our own traveling, it feels like it's been a good, long while since K and I have had a nice, chill weekend to ourselves. And (in true K & MLIB style) we'll have to wait at least a couple weeks more before that happens.

There was a lot I wanted to do around the house, so I made myself my big to-do list. I did a ton of laundry, and I folded all of it. I washed our guest bedroom duvet cover. I vacuumed almost every inch of floor in the house. I cleaned out the refrigerator (there's ROOM in there now!). I cleaned all the toilets and sinks (I hate cleaning the showers, and since I just did it last week, I decided it could wait a few more days). I washed and ironed our dining room table runner. I even washed my reusable shopping bags!

I felt like such a good wife -- not that scrubbing the house is my job as a wife, but because since I think it's absolutely wonderful to come home to a spotless house, K would surely feel the same.

I had just finished my very last chore and was about to collapse on the couch and relax when K got to the front door. I waited for him to say something about the house.

Nothing.

He had just arrived, though, so I waited patiently. We watched TV for a bit. By then, he had been to the kitchen and all around downstairs, but he had still said nothing.

"Why don't you take your stuff upstairs?" I asked him. That way, he'd have to walk up the freshly vacuumed stairs, down the freshly vacuumed hallway, and into the freshly vacuumed bedroom. He'd notice the bed was made and the sheets were cleaned (they're a different color than when he left), and he'd see the stacks of his laundry that I'd folded.

I went upstairs a few minutes after he did. I started a conversation. He still said nothing about the house. I couldn't wait any longer. "Will you just tell me the house looks awesome?" I threw my hands in the air.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "I cleaned the entire thing this weekend. Can you just acknowledge that it looks good?" (K would want me to tell you that there was an F-word or two dropped in these lines somewhere, but I don't remember where, so I didn't add them here.)

As you can imagine, none of this went over well with K. Instead of telling me it looked great and leaving it at that, he said something along the lines of, "Fine, it looks great. What do you expect from me? I'm tired!" (For the record, there were some F-bombs dropped in those lines, too.) He continued griping about how tired he was, and he finally told me that he didn't even care that the house was clean. That it didn't look any different from how he remembered it looking when he left (he was way off).

"No," I said. "When you left, it was tidy. Now, it's SPOTLESS!"

"Those are YOUR DEFINITIONS!"

He went on and on, and I finally just started laughing at him. I could tell he was tired and cranky. All I had wanted was acknowledgment of my hard work.

I told him I was going to wear the hottest pajamas ever to bed, and he wasn't going to get anything out of it.

"Hot pajamas? Is that even possible?" (I told you he was cranky!)

I rolled my eyes, laughed and left him to finish unpacking. When he was done, he started getting ready for bed. I picked out a soft, sexy nightgown, and I made sure to start getting ready for bed while he was still in the bathroom. He was in bed and asleep before I was done. The guy was too tired to even be tortured. Damn.

Yet again, a reunion that went nothing at all like I had thought it would.

I'll just have to remember from now on that we suck at first nights back. The traveler is always tired and cranky; the non-traveler is always too excited about whatever got done around the house in that time (no matter how big or ... not).

But at least my house is freakin' spotless.

Even if I am the only one who's excited about it!