Welcome to My Husband Hates Me Because..., our series in which we explore all the quirky and charming ways that we inadvertently drive our spouses crazy.
For the most part, I clean up after myself. My husband, same. Like most couples, we worked out one of many domestic deals: If I cook, he cleans, and vice versa. And my husband loves when I cook. It's what I do while I cook that drives him insane: I leave food scraps in the sink and drain. Sorry?
We don't have a garbage disposal; I really should know better. But I have this wild id impulse to make a mess. Not all the time, mind you, but it's the same "IDGAF, I'm not the one cleaning this shit" attitude that has me hurling the contents of a carefully packed suitcase all over a hotel room that makes it somehow ok for me to chuck bits of discarded food into the sink when I'm preparing a meal.
Carrot peels, the little tentacled ends of scallions, pepper cores and seeds, shrimp shells. Chicken gizzards in their strange little bag. All of it. Right in the sink. IDGAF, I'm not the one cleaning that shit, either.
My husband regularly compliments my cooking, but when it's his turn to clean up after that second bowl of shrimp and grits, he turns suddenly harsh. "Babe, you left scallions in the trap!" he snaps, hunched over the faucet, triaging the sink in an attempt to mitigate whatever havoc I've wreaked.
All the while, I feign deafness as I recline on the couch, catching up on The Jinx on my iPad. "Can't hear you!" I scream, adjusting the space heater to hit more of my toes.
Why am I so cruel? My sink mess is a rebellion, I suppose, against the rest of my life. Most of my time is spent trying to keep everything organized — at work, at home, as a mom, as a friend — that sometimes I just need to throw perishables into the sink drain with frenzied abandon and have it taken care of by someone who loves me. Even though he might love me a little bit less while he cleans it all up.
Illustration by Tara Jacoby.