“Your place or mine?” I asked.
“Yours. It’s bigger and closer to work.”
“And your place?”
I thought he was exaggerating.
“I’ll give up the lease. No point paying for two.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I had no idea what I was signing up for.
When we cooked together, he preferred supervising.
“You’re better at this,” he’d say.
We finally decided to move in together.
“You do know how to cook, right?” I once asked.
“Of course. I just prefer your cooking.”
“And laundry?”
“Sarah, I have a job and pay my bills. I’m not helpless.”
I believed him. That was my mistake.
He preferred supervising.
For the first four days of living together, everything seemed perfect.
Then, at six one morning, Robert shook me awake.
“Sarah, we have a problem.”
I sat up. “What happened?”
“I’m out of clean socks.”
That was my mistake.
“Did you wash any?”
“You were doing laundry yesterday.”
