Take This Job And Shove It... A Trilogy... Part III

Emancipation
A Trilogy

Part III: Airing Out Dirty Laundry
or
No Tickee... No Washee

I was on a roll. There was no stopping me now. It was time to sever all domestic ties to Dick by no longer doing his laundry and ironing. This was a biggie. Dick never washed a load of clothes his entire life. He never learned how nor did he have any intentions of mastering the skill. Before he married me, he lived at home. His mom took care of everything for him. After we got married, I unknowingly took over the role of "mom." I found out way too late that the guy who became my husband was not a man. He was a spoiled boy who refused to grow up and take any responsibility for himself. The reality was, he wasn't raised to. His parents believed they gave birth to the Almighty and complied with all of his commands, wishes and desires. They worshiped him, praised him and felt that everyone else should bow down to him as well. How lucky for me that I had the privilege, honor and distinction of being able to serve him and cater to his every whim for over 26 years.

As they say, all good things must come to an end. Thankfully, even the bad things eventually come to an end as well. My tenure as Cinderella would be terminating in the near future. In the meantime, I still have to deal with my equivalent of the evil stepmother and stepsisters. (Dick and his family) So, if I am Cinderella, is my Prince Charming on his way to rescue me? Will we live happily ever after??? A girl can dream, can't she???

Getting back to reality, things got very ugly, nasty and vicious when Dick realized that his laundry was not getting done anymore. He made this discovery when he went down to the basement one day and astutely noticed that the only pile of clothes down there was his dirty belongings. After several days, he asked me if I was doing his laundry. I told him that from now on that was his responsibility. He blew a gasket. Madder than I ever saw him, his face contorted into an evil grimace. Rage filled his eyes as he announced to me that this was the last straw. Again he promised me that I should wait to see what was about to happen to me. As he stormed out of the house, went into the garage and was about to get into his car, I followed him and said in as forceful a tone as I could muster, "Are you threatening me?" "Are you threatening me," he repeated sarcastically. "That is all you ever know how to say." "That's because that's all you know how to do," I yelled back as I slammed the door.

He really knows how to rile me up. By now I should know better. If only I would just ignore him and let him go on and on without responding. Until I learn how to keep my mouth shut and not react, he'll keep on harassing me. He knows exactly how to lure me in. Stupidly I keep falling for it. One of these days, I'll finally get it right.

Back to the laundry issue, things got very filthy. (pun intended) Dick was relentless. Since I was not obeying his orders, demands or threats, he was determined to drive me crazy. One Sunday, a few weeks after I stopped taking care of his clothes, he almost succeeded. (Since Dick refused to wash his own clothes, he brought it to his 87-year-old mother to do.) He had a pile accumulating in the hallway. After I took a shower, I noticed that Dick had changed his towels in the bathroom, but his used ones were not with his other belongings in the foyer. My towels were at the bottom of my laundry basket. Could Dick have been so petty as to put his in with mine. After emptying out the basket, I saw that was exactly what he did. So I proceeded to take his out and put them on top of his pile. I left the bedroom and went downstairs. When I came back up, again his towels were gone. Again I checked my basket and again they were in there with my towels. Once more I took them out. Once more they were back in. This went on and on. What the heck was he trying to pull? When we were finally together in the bedroom, I took out his towels, threw them on his bed and told him that I was not washing his things and to keep them out of my basket. Dick yelled back, "You don't want to do my laundry, don't do it. I'll put it wherever I want to." I was ready to tell him exactly where to put it. Instead, before I caught myself, I said to him, "Do you think I'm stupid?" He answered, "That's a matter of opinion." Okay, I know I set myself up for that one. At that point, I took my basket down to the basement. Later in the day, his towels magically appeared in the basket in the basement. When I got around to washing my things, I left his towels on the floor. They must be really comfortable there, because they haven't moved from that spot ever since.