At our house, we typically keep traditional household roles. For example, I break things; Michael fixes them. He makes messes; I pick them up. I grocery shop, cook, do laundry, and bathe the dog. Michael handles all the maintenance, heavy lifting, and well, he brings home the bacon (figuratively, of course. He wouldn't know that he prefers Black Label bacon if his life depended on it).
All of this was in the era of B.P. (before pregnancy). It's been a while since I bought groceries, cooked dinner, washed clothes, or gave Elvira the beagle a bath. Michael has done his best to pick up the slack, but let's face it, a man who knows how to re-build an engine probably isn't going to dominate the laundry.
Fast forward to tonight. Have a look at this sweet dog:
Oh yes, she looks sweet, but she rolled in some STINKY crap. It was so stinky that I couldn't be around her without vomiting. Of course, I would never fake a need to vomit to get Michael to give her a bath while I sat on my butt and read the internet. No, I'm totally above behavior like that.
So I'm sitting in the den while Michael is upstairs in the bathroom with the stinky beast. "ASHLEY!!!!!!! HELP!!!!"
After I chuckled to myself, "Figures," I walked up to the bathroom to see what the problem was. Michael apparently didn't feel like looking very hard for the dog shampoo in the bathroom closet, so he grabbed....
Bubble bath. Oh, yes. He. Did.
And rather than a cup to rinse her with, he had a 5-gallon bucket. Of course. That's logical.
Obviously, he was unable to rinse the suds, hold the dog, and dump the 5-gallon bucket of water by himself.
This is why I act like the woman, and Michael acts like the man. We suck at each other's job.