Briefcase on the Kitchen Table

The other night, Ave and I got done with dinner and as usual, the dishes from our meal were stacked neatly by the sink waiting to be washed or put in the dishwasher. As I am sure most couples do, Avery and I have fallen in to patterns and one of them is that I do the dishes (no need to scoff; this is because I actually enjoy doing the dishes for the most part, just ask my mother). But on this night, I was tired from school with more reading looming and was not in the mood to plunge up to my elbows in warm suds. With a sigh I pushed myself up from the table and went back to my desk to dig in to Civil Procedure. I came out to the kitchen for some tea an hour and a half later and was taken aback; the dishes were still there, looking even more precarious with now dried food that would take even more gusto and elbow grease than I had to give that night. And I felt it; the slow growing heat in the pit of my stomach that is frustration. Why did Avery not clean these? Couldn’t he see they needed to be cleaned? Did I really have to ask? As “The Break Up” once so accurately portrayed, I didn’t want to have to ask; I wanted him to want to do the dishes. As I got ready to go lay a guilt trip on my well-meaning husband, I caught myself. Why in the world would Ave know to do the dishes tonight when I had clearly staked my claim on this little chore? Why was I just expecting him to just know? Why would it mean less if he did them because I asked than if I didn’t ask? Why do we expect our significant others to be mind readers? They can be many things; kind, funny, understanding, but very few can be our live-in Miss Cleo. As suspected, when I told Ave I was too tired to do the dishes that evening he kissed my forehead and started the water; all I had to do was ask. From now on if I need or want something (although I am sure I will slip up occasionally) I just need to ask. More importantly, just because I ask, it doesn’t make the ensuing action any less genuine. Expecting Avery to just know what I want isn’t fair to him; it is just setting him up to fail. And besides, I wouldn’t want him to be Miss Cleo; that lady was crazy.