CJ Kaplan

The Chore Wars by CJ Kaplan

Jaw set, veins popping on my arms and neck, fingers clenching to point of cramping, I try to squeeze the last pearl-sized drop from the now two-dimensional tube of toothpaste. Reluctantly, a small aquamarine globule appears just above the opening of the tube. I quickly swipe the head of my toothbrush before the blob can return turtle-like back inside. There is now just enough Crest covering the bristles to provide fresh breath if not prevent cavities.

My challenge complete, I place the marginally emptier tube back on the sink as a gauntlet thrown down to my adversary.

“The ball’s in your court now, honey,” I stage whisper to my sleeping wife as I exit the bathroom and slip under the covers.

Like any couple that has been together for over twenty years, Lisa and I engage in our fair share of verbal sparring matches. But, it is the silent battles, the tests of will that are the most grueling. These wordless wars are largely centered around who will be the one to refill the paper towel roll, replenish the tissues or replace the empty tube of toothpaste.

You would think from our behavior that performing these simple tasks requires us to ride into town to the General Store for new supplies. But, in reality, all we need to do is walk three feet to the linen closet. So, it’s not the idea of being inconvenienced. It’s just that, somehow, opening that new tube would be admitting defeat.

By now, both players in the game are well aware of each other’s strengths and weaknesses. For instance, I know that Lisa abhors whole milk. So, if I see that the skim milk is running low I’ll leave three or four drops in the carton knowing that she will go out to the garage and get a new carton of skim rather than drink the whole.

For her part, Lisa plays on the fact I can’t stand having recycling lying around the house. Something compels me to take every empty box and container out to the bin in the garage before the end of the day. I literally can’t sleep if there’s so much as an empty soda can sitting on the counter. This leads to midnight conversations like the following:

Lisa: Well, look at this. There appears to be only one tissue left.

Me (warily): Yeah, so?

Lisa: It’s just that I have this tickle in my nose and I feel as though I might sneeze.

Me: You wouldn’t.

Lisa: I’m afraid I can’t help it.

Me: Noooooooo!

(Lisa sneezes cartoonishly)

Lisa: Hand me that tissue, would you?

Me (tossing the tissue at Lisa and grumpily heading to the garage with the empty box): $#%*!

Now, before all the armchair psychologists start scribbling “passive/aggressive” in their imaginary notebooks, let me assure you that Lisa and I bear no malice toward each other whatsoever. It’s just a married couple’s way of busting each other’s chops. Where guys will play pranks on each other that involve hot sauce and athletic supporters, a man and his wife will take a more cerebral approach to convivial torture. Like any good practical joke, our little head games with household items are ultimately designed to make each other laugh. And as most of us learned in our formative years, we only do this kind of stuff to the people we really love.

I know this is true because of the flip side of all our gamesmanship. Like the times when I come home to find that Lisa has taken out the trash and done all the dishes, both of which are normally my responsibility. Or those days Lisa opens the refrigerator to discover that I’ve done some essential grocery shopping. We support each other when it counts.

Of course, all that sentiment didn’t change my feeling of triumph when I walked into the bathroom the next morning and found a fat new tube of toothpaste sitting on the sink where the old one had been. Hoisting the new tube above my head like the Stanley Cup, I paraded around the bedroom until Lisa acknowledged me.

“Yeah, yeah. I caved,” she admitted. “Whatever.”

“Well,” I crowed, “it’s not easy to beat the champ.”

“Just hurry up in there, Champ” she sniped.

Strutting back into the bathroom to continue my morning routine, I discovered (too late) that the toilet paper roll was empty.

As I sat there cursing, I could hear her laughing in the other room.

Now that’s just playing dirty.