chores

I’ve been left out of an important bonding ritual among married women—the one where they complain to each other about their husbands’ tolerance for dirt, dust, and clutter. In fact, when any kind of mess or disorder lingers for more than half an hour, my husband gets so agitated that he will either clean it up, or start making comments that make him sound like the housewife. 

I’ve never once found the toilet seat up or the toilet paper roll needing to be replaced. I’ve only very rarely had to ask him to do the dishes. We actually argue over who gets to vacuum. 

I’m blessed, I’m lucky, I know. This rare male specimen of domestic fastidiousness is a product of the deep-seated values in the culture he came from. 

You might think of Roma as barefoot, as dirty. Not the ones I know. I’ve never seen a house cleaner than my MIL’s house. Clothes so perfectly laundered, ironed, and folded. Some maybe 20 years old, but looking brand-new. Cupboards so organized. A bathroom floor clean enough to eat off of. 

“They say that leaving dirty dishes in the sink will invite bad spirits to linger in the morning,” my sister in law told me one time, referring to a Roma family she had known.  (That one is true: I know from experience.) My Gypsy man always breaths a sigh of relief after Saturday chores, saying how nice it is to feel the peace of a clean home. My Roma family frequently use the phrase "unblessed" as in, "It's unblessed to leave the house unclean." This connection between cleanliness and spirituality is significant. It’s more than cleanliness—it’s respect for everything they own or use. It’s respect for themselves and for others. It’s a way of thinking. Clean hands and a pure heart.