So. Last night I had done the day’s dishes and run the dishwasher a few hours prior to cooking dinner. After cooking, there were more dishes. I asked my husband if he could get the dishes for me, and he said he’d do them in the morning before he went to work but he was “just so beat” that he didn’t want to do them at night. OK, fine.
This morning, he hand-washed HALF the dishes in the sink, stopping once the drying rack got full because hand-drying and putting dishes away was apparently too much effort, didn’t bother unloading what was in the dishwasher, and didn’t bother tidying up the counters. And had the nerve to say to me “see? I bet you didn’t think I would get to them this morning.”
Trump’s push to frame Greenland as a U.S. “must-have” for national security has dragged an island of 56,000 people into a clash of empires. By tying tariffs…
Trump’s posts fused immigration, crime, and scandal into one explosive narrative, accusing Walz and Omar of shielding “murderers and drug dealers” and distracting from massive fraud in…
They didn’t choose her name until they discovered who she truly was. At first, she was barely recognizable as a dog at all—just a slow-moving shape along…
In modern life, sleep is often treated as a passive pause—a shutdown between productive hours. Yet the way we prepare for rest plays a powerful role in…