One of the families in an article keeps a color coded spreadsheet. First reaction: whoa way to keep score! That must cause conflicts. But then my second reaction was, "I wonder if we did that, if it really would look equitable through whatever lens we choose."

I once found a notebook my dad kept when my parents were having Trouble when I was little, and it was impressive -- you couldn't read it and not see how he was my primary caregiver. Which I'm pretty sure was the issue at hand. But reading it was kind of depressing. 6:45 make J breakfast, 7:00 feed J breakfast, 7:15 dress J, etc. etc.

w/r/t balance of chores: I'm always the one who vacuums, and whenever it starts to make me resentful, I remind myself that The Boy always takes care of dog poo removal from the backyard as well as always cleans the litter boxes (that one I had to just tell him I can't help with; between the cat hair and the dust generated by litter, my lungs would collapse, and that's no joke).

So really, that strikes an equitable balance, IMO.

I didn't really have chores. But no one in my family really cleaned or did much housework. I mean, my grandma cooked and my grandpa did the dishes and everyone picked up after themselves and did their own laundry, and my mom vacuumed and I dusted sometimes. My mom and I grocery shopped with my grandma's list. Later, I did it alone. We had three lawnmowers and my grandma, grandpa and either my mom or my uncle all mowed. Whoever took the dog out picked up the poop. I set the table. We had in my childhood, lots and lots of time to just read and play games.

This may be because I was one child and there were four adults in the household. But I feel like there wasn't even 15 hours worth of work in one week for one person, let alone all of us. This is the only reason I hate living alone. It is easier to clean up after yourself if you are disturbing others by being messy, and although it is probably the same amount of work, I hate doing some chores, like washing dishes.

I'm so godawful in the mornings that usually Mr. Sox does breakfast. No one wants me to make coffee before I've had any.

I do bills, budgeting, and bathrooms. None of which I like.

I know the Kool-Aid phrase came from the Jonestown suicides, but as with most things, I do believe it's been softened over the intervening time.

Actually when I thought about it further, I think the phrase may come from The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, in which case the ref fits more with Steph's initial "must be drugged" reading.

I'm pretty sure it came from Jonestown. I remember first hearing it in a very clear "unquestioningly following someone else's agenda even if it led to your personal harm" context.

From juliana's link:

Before you leave for the airport, look at yourself in the mirror, and think: Could I meet and IMPRESS someone who would change my life while wearing this? And if the answer is "No," change.

Good advice for any time you leave the house I'd say.

Oh good god no. It takes enough mental energy to manage something halfway presentable in the morning to begin with, without adding this into the mix. I'm not saying you can't go too far the other side, but no.

My mom sent me a nice email that reads that I take pretty darn good care of myself, that she's never been alone, not even for a minute, that I'm very brave and independent.

She was married at 16, so my life, I think, seems awfully foreign to her.

I once found a notebook my dad kept when my parents were having Trouble when I was little, and it was impressive -- you couldn't read it and not see how he was my primary caregiver. Which I'm pretty sure was the issue at hand. But reading it was kind of depressing. 6:45 make J breakfast, 7:00 feed J breakfast, 7:15 dress J, etc. etc.

Why depressing, Jesse?

I remind myself that The Boy always takes care of dog poo removal from the backyard as well as always cleans the litter boxes

When I'm mopping. Again. I try to remind myself of the same as it pertains to K. And it makes me feel better. Until I remember that the dog and cat are HERS.

If possible I usually wear jeans on the plane. Can I impress someone who would change my life, in jeans? Um...maybe? Doubtful. But can I be comfortable, run through the airport, stuff receipts, ID, boarding pass, etc, in my pockets, and not fear them falling out (like in most nice trousers or skirt pockets), etc etc? Yes.

nd whenever it starts to make me resentful, I remind myself that The Boy always takes care of dog poo removal from the backyard as well as always cleans the litter boxes (that one I had to just tell him I can't help with; between the cat hair and the dust generated by litter, my lungs would collapse, and that's no joke)

Um...right. For...HIS PETS? (Clearly there are other chores besides vacuuming and poo-removal, but...dude)

Why depressing, Jesse?

Just thinking about being in a relationship where you have to make your case like that, I guess. They got through it, and are still married, though!