No, there isn’t, otherwise it wouldn’t be called a chore. Oh for life to be like an MMO! Move your hands over the fire and tada, food! Hack at some rock and receive ore. Twiddle your hands again to make clothes. Oh to carry a wand and not a broom!
Now there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with chores. After all, eliminating bacteria from your living environment is a good thing. But then again, it’s wooooork. I mean, who actually likes scrubbing toilets? And I’m sure only very specialised perverts like taking out the trash. And worse than the fact that it’s work, there’re the people who share your living space who seem to be on a constant mission to thwart your efforts. So let’s rank things according to groan-worthiness.
11. Laundry. Ranked lowest because I have a washerdryer I bought myself because fuck everyone, there’s no room for a decent dryer in my house and I’m not hanging things out to dry. Can’t get a decent load of laundry hung up on a drying rack.
10. Dishes. We have a dishwasher. I insisted we get a dishwasher when we moved in here. I fought tooth and nail because everyone told me, oh but you’re only two people. I said, you’re right, and got the dishwasher anyway. Early in our relationship Boyfriend and me decided that dishes should be his chore. And of course nothing ever got done because Boyfriend can be a lazy sack o’ something and the only way he ever did the damn dishes was by being nagged to almost-death. So I put my foot down and said, dishwasher. Thinking of course that this would free him up for additional chores so I didn’t have to do everything. Did that work? Nope. And as if to mock me he always, with military precision, puts his dishes on top of the dishwasher instead of taking the five seconds to open the damn thing and putting the dishes inside.
9. Kitchen cleaning. I usually wipe the kitchen counter any chance I get. Put something in the oven? Perfect time for a wipe. Put something in the microwave? Let’s see how clean I can get this sink in 60 seconds. Now wiping the fronts of cabinets, that’s a real chore. And one reserved for spring cleaning.
8. Taking out the trash. Now this is also one of Boyfriends chores and also involves a lot of nagging. Why nagging? Because a friendly “Could you please take out the kitchen trash when you leave for work tomorrow?” is always met with a groan of agony like I just asked him to get me peaches from Tibet.
7. Dusting. This is annoying because I have to do it every second day because I’m allergic. Of course being allergic doesn’t make it easier to dust. A couple times a year, usually somewhere around a holiday, I bite the proverbial bullet, get out the ladder and even dust in places my 5’4” ass usually can’t reach.
6. Changing bedsheets. I don’t know what it is with changing bedsheets and covers but I find it supremely annoying and time-consuming. Like I have to take everything off the bed, get the new covers, strip the old covers off, put the new covers on, take the old sheet off, put a new one on, then make the bed, then put everything that was on it on it again.
5. Bathroom cleaning. Who even invented shower cubicles and who decided they should be so difficult to keep clean? Also, why is there beard hair all over the damn place? I can have the bathroom spotless by mid-afternoon and by 6 pm at the latest it will be ruined again because Boyfriend showers and somehow manages to flood the room and get hair from various parts of his body all over everything.
4. Ironing. It’s not really the ironing itself, because I’m actually pretty fast. I can get two loads of laundry ironed and folded in an hour. What I don’t like about it is the fact that, because I usually iron on the weekends, Boyfriend just sits around in the same room, playing on his computer, leisurely as you please, while I have to do manual work that makes me feel like such a housewife. Dammit, I want some free weekend, too, dammit!
3. Groceries. One, everything is expensive as hell and I get severely depressed each time I see the numbers at the checkout. Two, so I make a list. A nice comprehensive list that takes into account this weeks meal plan as well as the kitchen inventory I did not half an hour before leaving the house. Then Boyfriend keeps putting things in the cart that aren’t on the list. And then I have to argue. I don’t like that. Just keep to the list.
2. Vacuum cleaning. The vacuum cleaner is heavy. I don’t like dragging heavy things around, especially not if they snag on every damn corner or door or whatever is lying on the floor again that I didn’t put there. And I always have to change the front part for another because someone decided you can’t vacuum furniture with the normal part. And then I lean the whole thing against a wall or something and it won’t stand still for one goddamn second and falls on my foot.
1. COOKING! OMG, nothing I hate more! Do people who don’t cook even realise how much mental effort goes into cooking? It’s small wonder I suffer from decision fatigue. Like, you have to budget. You have to make a more-or-less plan for an entire week because shit you have other things to do when you get home besides deciding what you’ll eat today (you know, like laundry and vacuum cleaning because ain’t no one gonna help you). You have to buy groceries accordingly and hope to heaven or hell that the thing you bought on Friday that’s supposed to be good for a week will not have gone bad by Monday. Then you have to consider all the other people who’re gonna eat the same thing. And then you cook, you chop your veggies, you agonize over too crisply cooked meat, you feel guilty because this meal is not entirely in line with your diet and you really need to lose weight and why do humans even have to eat? And then you serve and it takes forever to get the people who live with you to abandon their digital devices and come tot he table, and then they don’t like it. And then they don’t feel like it. And then they’d rather have something else, like X, you didn’t make X in a while. And this has to be done every day, over and over and over, until you finally snap, reach for the steak knife and stab your way into the history of great criminal cases.
And I don’t even have kids. Guess I better keep it that way.