the dishwasher was finished. the little green light was on. and the clean dishes sat there for four hours while my husband walked past it a dozen times.
when i finally said something, he was happy to empty it. genuinely happy to help. and that’s the whole problem in one sentence.
it feels like we’re operating on two different clocks. his clock starts when a task is delegated; my clock is the system clock, the one that runs constantly in the background, scanning for things that need to be done. the mental list of diaper inventory, the stray thought that we’re low on dog food, the scheduling of