My main chore growing up was vacuuming our carpet ocean and rug islands. Every rug was seemingly made with frills flowing from the border, designed to repeatedly jam vacuum bristles. Attempting to rush inevitably sat me down to unwind frills under the foul odor of a burnt motor. There were countless attachments to keep track of, and being tall, my back used to hurt prematurely from hunching over the hose into uncomfortable positions, to clean beneath furniture and into the creases between stairs. Needless to say, vacuuming became my least favorite chore. I preferred ironing, folding, or doing laundry. When I got my own space, I went so far as to sweep what little carpet I already hated to lay; when will someone make affordably heated wooden floorboards?! Ironically, washing dishes is my favorite chore to date, and I was never asked to do it as a child.
Before all of my relationships went to hell, we always agreed as a couple that I would wash our dishes everyday and she would vacuum our place every week. Even as a bachelor, I like a clean sink. Especially after breakfast, after my first sip of water and before my morning shower, I feel the most refreshed pouring water over my hands while soaking dishes and utensils. Everything gets soaked, utensils get wiped first in two alternating strokes with a soapy sponge, rinsed off, and place in a rack to dry. Dishes follow a similar pattern, then pots, which occasionally require extra scrubbing. Quick household hack: I routinely use a rolled up bit of foil in place of steel sponges. My self-admitted dishwashing flaw is constantly running water during the entire procedure. I hate piling soapy dishes on the side, while my skin dries, until I rinse them all off. Most people, especially older folks with a history of limited resources, scold me for the waste. The very sound of running water is soothing though, as are the feeling of my wet hands, so much that I can’t imagine wearing bright yellow rubber gloves, nor can I imagine not applying a moisturizer afterwards. Maybe I really just like washing my hands, except that wouldn’t explain my disdain for dishwashers or the concept of pre-washing.
Still working on my house husband resume, and my original offer still stands for my future wife. I also give great massages, I’ve been told, if you like strong hands.