<http://schema.org/articleBody>
"When Rex and I first started dating ten years ago, I lived in the cutest little apartment ever. It had a white staircase leading to wide windows and a welcoming front door. The door had a screen that creaked when you opened it, as if to say, &amp;quot;Come on in. Have some coffee. Or a beer. If you want to smoke, okay, but do it outside in the cute little entryway, next to the neighbor&amp;#039;s flower garden and Mexican ceramic collection.&amp;quot;  Not everything about my apartment was charming. Some of the paint was peeling. The lights would go out if I dared run a hair dryer and the radio at the same time. And while the front windows overlooked a nursery school (how I loved the sounds of children&amp;#039;s laughter as I stumbled my way out of bed each day), the back windows showed a view of a pack rat&amp;#039;s garage.  The little quirks didn&amp;#039;t bother me. At the time I lived there, I had just landed my first TV writing gig after eight years of typing other peoples&amp;#039; scripts. Like the people I created for the series, the ringing pipes were just two more characters to add excitement and noise to my chaotic existence.  The best character of all that year, though, was Rex. He entered the Andrea show with the grace of a quiet leading man. He didn&amp;#039;t try to impress me with juggling acts or magic flower tricks (Though he did track me down on a Vegas vacation that year and sent Valentine flowers to my hotel. That was Emmy Award worthy). Rex&amp;#039;s actions, not obnoxious proclamations, spoke volumes about who he was.  One of the things I&amp;#039;ll never forget is how, on his lunch break, he&amp;#039;d sneak into my apartment with his key. I didn&amp;#039;t have a dishwasher, and box by box, a few trips a week, he&amp;#039;d take my dishes back to his condo where he&amp;#039;d run them through his General Electric wonder machine. What was once fuzzy came back sparkling. I wanted my life to be like that always: Shining, bright, and so delicious I could lick it up, like frosting on a glass tea plate. Of course, 10 years later, the things that once impressed me now drive me crazy. What I took for chivalry was also a sign of his more anal nature. He hates dishes taking up valuable sink space. My view of laundry is to do it when you&amp;#039;re out of clothes. His is more a precise schedule.  A few years of needling each other finally blew up last month, a few days before Christmas Eve, which we were hosting. Where were those tablecloths? Why couldn&amp;#039;t we find the soup pots? And just exactly where were the kids&amp;#039; Santa pajamas? Rex: &amp;quot;Why can&amp;#039;t you just wash the clothes every few days?&amp;quot;  Me: &amp;quot;Why can&amp;#039;t you relax and just spend time here with us instead of worrying about the grass! Or your work!&amp;quot;  Rex: &amp;quot;Hey, someone&amp;#039;s got to mow it. And make a living. Should I add laundry to that list now, too?&amp;quot; Pause.  Me: &amp;quot;That would be super!&amp;quot;  He huffed away, but guess who started putting the clothes in the dryer on his way out to work each morning?  And guess who, filled with appreciation at her 60-hour/week hubby doing the morning laundry, started taking the time to separate the dark shirts from the light, like he&amp;#039;d been asking me to do for years.  And guess who, with lots of bleached white undershirts to go with his hot pink underwear (Um... the original tightie whities might have had a run-in with a 99 cent store red shirt -- Not my fault!) was so happy with the laundry progress that he started cooking dinner at night also. He even asked, &amp;quot;What do you need me to do for Xmas Eve prep?&amp;quot;  And guess who, loving this renewed partnership, started emptying the dishwasher before he got home, giving us more clean tools to cook with? And now, a few weeks later, since we&amp;#039;re so friggin&amp;#039; proud of ourselves, guess who are now a bit more excited to drink a glass of wine at night and lay on the fresh sheets that we cleaned together as a team?  That&amp;#039;s right, baby! "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a2240/household-chores-arguments/?src=shelter_footer>