It's like my husband -wants- to be smothered in his sleep.

Gave husband a to-do list on Friday, listed in the order I would like him to actually complete the items so that there would be a better chance he might actually finish some of them.

Noon on Sunday, let's see how many are actually done?

Oh, that's right.

None.

Since Friday night I have unpacked six boxes, refolded the (admittedly small at the moment) contents of my dresser to optimize storage space (I saw a thing on Pinterest), rearranged several shelves to make space for more knicknacks, culled some things we don't use and therefore don't need, made some progress on the fourth Battle Bonnet during the DnD game because I can multi-task, and found time to attend said game and take a couple who helped us move out to lunch yesterday.

My husband? Swept up some cat litter from the master bathroom floor, put together two out of three bookcases, inadvertently insulted the hell out of me several times, and has been fighting me tooth and nail about throwing away crap we haven't used in years but "might be useful someday". So it's not as if he's done nothing all weekend, just not nearly enough for me to be able to finish unpacking everything else this week, which was my goal since someone is coming over on Friday and I'd like to not have all of our dishes still piled on the kitchen table.

Why do men do that hording "someday useful" crap anyway? He's got a box full of cables that he hasn't touched and can't immediately identify, but heaven help me if I suggest storing it in the garage at the very least. Oh no, it has to be in the house, in his desk drawer. In case... of what, I do not no.

Sentimental things, I understand that. I've got loads of fiddly bits that have no value other than sentimental - they're not even pretty. But someone I liked gave them to me, so they go on a shelf and collect dust. I understand that. Whenever I ask if I can throw something of his away my first question is always " Does it mean something to you?"

And yet the answer is always something like "I don't remember where I got it, I've had it for a long time."

"Is it important to you?"

"No."

"Can I throw it away?"

"No. I might need it."

Rinse, repeat.

You know what I've started doing now? I stop at "Is it important to you?" and if the answer is anything other than yes, in the trash it goes. So now he's not talking to me at the moment.

I threw away Harry Potter stuff last week, that is how serious I am about decluttering the house.

I'm actually in my office right now so that I don't start throwing heavy leaded crystal things at his head because he has not only found my last nerve, he has been dancing on it all weekend and I... am one handy knicknack away from homicide.

It's like my husband -wants- to be smothered in his sleep.

Gave husband a to-do list on Friday, listed in the order I would like him to actually complete the items so that there would be a better chance he might actually finish some of them.

Noon on Sunday, let's see how many are actually done?

Oh, that's right.

None.

Since Friday night I have unpacked six boxes, refolded the (admittedly small at the moment) contents of my dresser to optimize storage space (I saw a thing on Pinterest), rearranged several shelves to make space for more knicknacks, culled some things we don't use and therefore don't need, made some progress on the fourth Battle Bonnet during the DnD game because I can multi-task, and found time to attend said game and take a couple who helped us move out to lunch yesterday.

My husband? Swept up some cat litter from the master bathroom floor, put together two out of three bookcases, inadvertently insulted the hell out of me several times, and has been fighting me tooth and nail about throwing away crap we haven't used in years but "might be useful someday". So it's not as if he's done nothing all weekend, just not nearly enough for me to be able to finish unpacking everything else this week, which was my goal since someone is coming over on Friday and I'd like to not have all of our dishes still piled on the kitchen table.

Why do men do that hording "someday useful" crap anyway? He's got a box full of cables that he hasn't touched and can't immediately identify, but heaven help me if I suggest storing it in the garage at the very least. Oh no, it has to be in the house, in his desk drawer. In case... of what, I do not no.

Sentimental things, I understand that. I've got loads of fiddly bits that have no value other than sentimental - they're not even pretty. But someone I liked gave them to me, so they go on a shelf and collect dust. I understand that. Whenever I ask if I can throw something of his away my first question is always " Does it mean something to you?"

And yet the answer is always something like "I don't remember where I got it, I've had it for a long time."

"Is it important to you?"

"No."

"Can I throw it away?"

"No. I might need it."

Rinse, repeat.

You know what I've started doing now? I stop at "Is it important to you?" and if the answer is anything other than yes, in the trash it goes. So now he's not talking to me at the moment.

I threw away Harry Potter stuff last week, that is how serious I am about decluttering the house.

I'm actually in my office right now so that I don't start throwing heavy leaded crystal things at his head because he has not only found my last nerve, he has been dancing on it all weekend and I... am one handy knicknack away from homicide.