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Don’t sweat the small stuff

My husband got in the habit of doing a lot of the cooking and grocery shopping during the last few months of my pregnancy, but one thing really bugged me — that when he finished washing dishes, he always forgets to take the bin outside. He would leave all the waste neatly by the sink.
Over the period, in deep and abiding gratitude (seriously) for his help, I take the bin and throw it out happily. But somehow, the bin was bugging me. After all, if you want to help, just go the extra mile and complete the good deed. He knew taking the bin out would prevent the house from smelling but he just kept piling it in the nylon bag. I went as far as buying a smaller portable bin so he just throws it in and he could cover even if he forgets to take it out. I would make subtle hints by bringing the smaller bin closer to the sink so as to make it easier for him to just dump the waste in – for where? Nothing. So on that day I decided I would stop taking the bin out for him and made up my mind to leave it – worse case it would smell abi? That should teach him next time.And that’s when the trouble started.It began with my prideful self asking me why my husband has not taken the bin yet (my prideful self did not ask it that nicely). My grateful self said, “Oh just throw it out yourself and stop being so silly.” To which some middle part of me said, “Oh leave it, he’ll do it eventually.”

Quickly my selves had begun debating the merits of my husband, and thrown us into a competition for meritorious contributions to the household. I could see it going downhill fast.

Prideful self: “If he loved you, he would know you needed the bin taken out.”

Grateful self: “Oh please, if you loved him, you would not bother with this nonsense.” Besides you know if you ask him, he would just do it.

I mentioned this to my mum out of frustration. She looked at me incredulously. “He shops? Cooks? Washes dishes? YOU TAKE THE STUPID BIN OUT AND COUNT YOURSELF BLESSED. ”

Trust me na, couldn’t let it just die like that, so that evening as usual after he came from work and helped out with the dinner clean up I asked if he would please take the bin outside. “Sure,” was the answer I got. And he did. Of course my prideful self was not to be silenced completely. When he came back down I asked him (nicely), “How come you never throw the waste into the smaller bin and take out after cleaning up?” To which he responded

“We have a smaller bin?.”

Shock!! My prideful self wanted me to complain that he should have noticed. That he should notice me more, appreciate me more, pay me more attention. My prideful self can be quite annoying at carrying things a bit too far.

At that point my mother’s advice rang through “He shops? Cooks? Washes dishes? YOU TAKE THE STUPID BIN OUT AND COUNT YOURSELF BLESSED.. ” I was duly chastised, took her advice and never looked back.

Lesson learned. Don’t sweat the small stuff. And if you can’t let it go, just ask nicely. Men are not mind readers and chances are he really didn’t notice

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