This is a funny article from 13 years ago! The sainthood did not last, as he grew tired of laundry just like everyone else in the Universe!

The Sainted Husband

After twenty-two years of marriage, this is the year my husband crossed over to sainthood.

You see, it all started simple enough. After eighteen years in the same place, we moved. Through all of the married years, my husband was content to have me wait on him hand and foot. For the most part, I complied. He always had a good hot dinner. The house was a chaotic kind of clean. I made sure the kids and I were home when he was home. He was the king of his castle. Traditional husband and wife roles.

When we made a move to our new, bigger home, life went on as usual, until just recently. New house, new appliances, right? I wanted a bigger washer and dryer, and although the ones I had at our old house were only a year or two old, they were electric and we needed gas. Poor me, I had to shop for a new washer and dryer. Like a man at a car show, I salivated over the latest and greatest on the appliance showroom floor. I settled on the streamlined top of the line washer and dryer that talk to each other… The washer tells the dryer what is coming its way. From the GE line, and boy do I love those people. I was in laundry nirvana. But wait! It gets better!

In 1983 I married my husband. He is one of five boys. He comes from a traditional home where, in his entire life, he did not wash a dish or clean an article of clothing. It was in 1982 when he left his mother’s home for the first time that I had to take him step by step through the washing, drying, and folding of laundry. I taught him about scrubbing toilets and cleaning bathrooms. It all fell on deaf ears. Even then, the apartment he and his roommate shared went unclean, and laundry was not a priority. Don’t even ask about the bathroom! I gave a little leeway in that they were training for careers in Air Traffic Control in Oklahoma City. Housekeeping was not a priority.

He was only gone from his mother’s home for three months. The next home he moved to was with me as husband and wife. My husband forgot all I taught him earlier, and could not do a load of wash to save his life…until now.

My washer and dryer can be programmed! I programmed them, thinking the teenagers would take on their laundry. I am pretty picky, so it was hard to let go. Clothes cost a lot, and I like them to last. Could I trust my teenage girls to the task of laundry? After programming, I bought two roller-type sorters with three compartments each. My youngest two made signs to show what goes in what compartment. They were particularly thrilled with the underwear picture they found on clip-art. Anyway, before you knew it, the laundry room was set up. Everyone should be able to sort his or her dirty clothes. Even the husband. But something better happened. With Tide in hand and a programmed machine, my husband became entirely in command of laundry central! The one hundred percent certified Sicilian man was doing laundry! I could not believe it! It was as if I had one won the grand prize in some contest and my reward was a newly trained domesticated husband! His grandmother and at least two aunts are rolling over in their graves as we speak at the prospect of a beautiful Italian boy doing laundry. Trust me on this one… all good wives are judged on their laundry and cooking abilities when it comes to the Italian culture. I would have never allowed my husband this new found “hobby” of his were they still alive! I would have been exiled from the family and possibly ex-communicated!

It has been about a month now, and my husband still does laundry. I am not going to lie to you and say he is perfect, although he has yet to turn anything pink. He tends to leave freshly cleaned clothes in a basket for a few days. We skilled laundry moms and dads know that only leads to wrinkles. He thinks I am persnickety when it comes to folding towels. And I am. He refuses to put clothes away and instead stockpiles them in the kid’s rooms. I have suggested using the baskets for this, but he refuses. Sometimes he dries when he should hang (lucky for him, I programmed the dryer to dry at a low temperature), but all and all he does a great job. He has taken one huge chore out of my hands, and for that, I am recommending sainthood!

Maybe with that nomination looming over his head, he will learn to boil water! A girl can dream…