So it's Monday again. I hate Mondays. It signals another 6 days of battle at work. My body was glued to bed, too lazy to get up. But I could hear my husband in the living room, perhaps lying down on the couch, stewing himself away from the coldness of our bedroom. This was his transition to waking up, and this was my cue to get up because soon he will be rummaging our room for clothes and it would be impossible to remain asleep.

But this was one of the bad Mondays. As soon as I opened up my eyes, there before me was my doorless cabinet. He had been putting off the repair of my closet, favoring instead his most enjoyable relaxation on a Sunday—playing billiards with friends. But I could deal with this, I wanted him to enjoy his time as much as I tried to with mine. But when I got up, I walked past our safety vault and it was still open. It contained our valuables so I reckoned he would prioritize it. But I was wrong. Yes, I could have done it myself, but since we had forcefully inserted documents of odd sizes, it was impossible to push the door close without his masculine strength.

I had to ignore it and went straight to the bathroom. But lo and behold, one of my pet peeves, his toothbrush was on top of the sink. Time and again, he forgot to put it back in the holder. But I didn’t want to be annoyed on a Monday morning so I went out of the bathroom quickly without touching his toothbrush.

But before I could finally go back to the bedroom, right next to the bathroom was the washing machine and I noticed right away his wet dirty clothes on top of other garments. I was sure the colored ones would bleed on the whites. Ugghhhh… My last straw? Not yet…but I was already fuming.

So I sauntered to the living room where I saw him lying down, and on the couch I could see his stuffs all over, his books, his cellphone, pens, eraser, laptop, remotes, wires and keys. Bad mess.

Alright I don’t have an OCD but I expect other member of the household to maintain order as much as I do or at least one should try to. If he does not pick up after himself, who would? Me?

I don’t want to go into battle of gender roles here.  We both work, and I contribute as much talents and labor as he does in our business. Likewise, I expect him to behave the same in our home.

I am not the one to keep quiet, I have had stipulated my rules in the household before. But his lapses has been chronic lately, I am becoming more and more conscious of them everyday.

But in the process, I am learning to get a good grip of my patience too. I kept my mouth shut and avoided confrontation. But I was only as good until he finished his meal and I came out fresh from the shower. As I headed to make coffee, his leftovers and dishes were still on the table. I thought, maybe, he is not done eating yet. So I went to our room to change where I found him spritzing his perfume. Right away I knew that he was ready to go out of the house.

Well, this was it. Again, he was acting like a dining customer in a restaurant, leaving his mess behind. Only this time, he was not paying. And I was not a host to give him a free meal.

I could feel the blood flushed through  my face and neck. I knew my anger was beyond my control. But I tried not to raise my voice, proving my rage in my choice of words instead. “Clean up your mess or I’ll throw away the dishes”. One-liner… enough to convey the declaration of war. And he was smart enough to raise a white flag and retreat to the kitchen. Peacefully.

I felt a little smug when he kissed me goodbye. For now. Am not sure what warfare to use next time, maybe a one-liner will not work anymore.