On being a housewife

I’ve been at home full-time now for almost 7 months. In that time it hasn’t felt like my life has changed all that much as I was working at home for the better part of the last two years. Now, as the designated full-time house-person I am responsible for all things to do with the house with a few exceptions (cat litter and taking out the garbage). This isn’t really new to me, previously I did it all anyway because I worked full-time at home. I was here and it was easy enough to empty the dishwasher as I made myself lunch or clean the bathroom as I was having my morning shower. Besides, Steve and I have very different ideas of how clean a house should be and my version is significantly cleaner. Not that I’m ultra-clean (I’m not) its just my tolerance for clutter and dirt is less than Steve’s.
Yet, now that this is my job I hate it. My job, for the most part, is easily the most boring job on the planet. It never changes, it never wavers, it never miraculously stays clean. Laundry needs to be done every Sunday (because I do not have enough underwear to last any longer than a week), the dishwasher needs to be empty and refilled EVERY DAY, and the dog continuously sheds. Asking the dog to stop the shedding is ineffective. I’ve tried it, it doesn’t work. You can’t even bribe him with the good treats, he still sheds.
If I could put blame firmly on Steve, trust me, I would, but I can’t. When it comes to live-in companions I have a pretty sweet deal and I know it. If I ask him to consistently put his dishes in the dishwasher, he does. If I ask him to bring down the laundry, he does. If I don’t vacuum or clean the bathroom for a month, he says nothing, not even a snide under-his-breath comment. The absolute worse thing he ever did was comment that his pants were wrinkled and I should iron them. I didn’t let that go because even though it might be my job, it takes a very brave man to ask a woman to iron his pants when said woman hasn’t ironed a pair of her own pants in YEARS. For the record, it took close to two hours and I informed him all future pant purchases will be of the wrinkle-free variety. Do I have a right to make that request? Not really. I did anyway.
The guy, for the most part, hardly makes a mess. His worse offense is the car but neither of us is going to take home an award for tidiest car which numerous friends will attest to. Frequently.
Yet I’ve mentioned nothing that I didn’t do before. I have been doing our laundry every Sunday for the last three years. I have been emptying the dishwasher and washing the dinner pots every night for that same amount of time. I vacuumed as regularly with a full-time job as I do now. The only reason I can think of why it suddenly sucks is that before I wasn’t doing it out of a sense that it was my job, I just did it because it needed to be done. Now I have to do it and that bugs the crap out of me.
I’m off to vacuum the downstairs and wash the kitchen floor now. You’re jealous, aren’t you?