Tired

Can I say I'm tired?
Yes, I'm a stay at home writer and I'm tired.
I shouldn't be, right? I mean, how taxing is typing all day, except for the mental work.
But I am.
Because when you are a stay at home anything (mom, writer, shadow puppet master, insert career here), people assume you have loads of time. Especially family members.
Why cant you pop in a load (or 12) of laundry into the machine while you're churning away words? You're just sitting at home anyway.
So today I did something I rarely do. I decided to ask for some help. That's what the experts suggest. If you don't ask, the answer will always be no.
So...
Me: Honey, can you unload the dishwasher?
Husband: Sure, babe. One minute.
Me: (an hour later). Honey, can you unload the dishwasher now?
Husband: Well, actually no. It's still really hot from being run. But I'll tell you what I can do..
(husband runs over to dishwasher, opens it and closes it again). There! That will release some of the heat and it will be ready for unloading in an hour.
Me: (an hour later) Honey, can you unload the dishwasher now?
Husband: Sure. Right after this show.

Eventually, I just did it myself. Then I felt resentful. To counter the resentment I tried this.
Me: Honey, can you LOAD the dishwasher. I already unloaded it.
Husband: Sure. But I'm not really sure how you fit everything in there like you do. (Husband comes to the dishwasher and loads in three spoons and a coffee mug then wanders away).
Me: (staring at the sink full of dishes) Sigh

Many moons later he did load that dishwasher. I'm happy, I guess. But he milked one chore the whole day.
I'm sure theres some man meeting somewhere that he must attend that teaches husbands everywhere how to evade chores until just before the moment when the wife cracks. Then, they swoop in, empty a garbage can, and go back to their normally scheduled lives.

I'm thinking of dressing up like a man and attending that meeting. I really need to see that playbook.