I'm Donna Talarico, Not Donna Reed: Confessions of an Anti-Domestic Diva

Still, many women enjoy housework and genuinely taking care of their husbands/live-in boyfriends. I on the other hand made it very clear that housework will be shared under my roof. Not just because I don't want to. Half of it is because I can't.

My boyfriend comes from a mom of seven. A mom who never worked. A mom who spends every hour of every day cleaning or tending to the house. So, when said boyfriend and I began living in sin three years ago, he just expected me to do the same. I feel horrible that Donna the angry beast became unleashed.

But-I had to rescue him from the oh-so perfect black and white world of the 1950s sitcoms. When that wasn't enough, I had to dive into the pages of the Stepford Wives and yank him out with both hands.

I said one of the most clever yet simple things I've ever uttered:

"I'm Donna TALARICO. NOT Donna Reed!"

Maybe I am embarrassing myself, but here are a few confessions of my undomestic habits.

1. I do not iron my clothes. It's a little lazy, but I also cannot iron very well. I put clothes in the dryer to fluff and dewrinkle them. Or, if they are still in the dryer because I did not put them away yet, (which they usually are) I just restart them. It works well. If it doesn't, I choose another outfit.

Also, I do not iron curtains. Just last week I bought curtains for our newer house. I went to hang them up. I laughed when Dave asked, "Aren't you going to iron those." Shocked, I said, "Who irons curtains?" I argued with him until I saw the packaging that said, "Ironing may be necessary." Like any woman would, I threw the package away and argued my point until he ironed them. Hee hee. They look fantastic.

2. I cannot sew. So what! En route to a wedding, we stopped to get a card. My shorter-than-average boyfriend got out of the car, only to have the hem fall out of his recently-tailored suit pants. He yelped, "We've gotta turn around. You have to fix this." I stared at him. He said, "What?" I informed him that I couldn't sew. That blew his mind. It was as if he thought all things with vaginas were born and blessed with thimble nimble fingers. So, I did what any helpful gal would do: went right into CVS and found doubled-sided adhesive tape for clothes. Who needs thread when you've got 3M!

3. I do not clean cobwebs from the corners of the walls. Hey! Spiders need somewhere to live, too. That's what I tell my man until he gets the shop-vac. It makes me sad when little Charlotte's cousin's get sucked away. I force back tears when the namesake of the Internet's nickname makes the journey through th tube.

4. I am a damn good cook (and perhaps that is what keeps me in this relationship despite all my other "wife" qualities), however dish duty is something I never sign up for. That has been the biggest task, and that has become something I can deal with. However, I never wipe off the stove when I am done cooking. Dave tells me I am a sloppy cook. But then I ask him if I am a good cook. When he says I am, I tell him, "Then that's all that matters!" Emeril says Bam! Rachel Ray does it in 30 minutes and I-leave a mark behind in the kitchen. That's my trademark. All good cooks have one.

5. I don't know when to clean the toilet. Because I never look, mostly. I mean, I know it should be done every week and all. I mean, I do clean the bathroom. I'd rather scrub the tub than do dishes. And, I am OCD about the bathroom sink. I keep that clean. I even clean the inside of the toilet, the hole part--- we get rusty stuff. But his gripe is-I never lift the lid to see HIS icky mess. Why would I?? Ew. I don't wipe his ass, so I should not have to wipe THAT.

6. I love leftovers! I love them so much that I hang on to them for a while. Enough said.

7. I don't see a lot of things. A turd fell out of the litter box. A pile of crumbs. A penny. A dirty towel. Little things that fall on the floor somehow escape my path of vision. However, I can find a receipt for something I want to return in a pile of papers on my desk. Why is that? My eyes are just not trained to notice the tiny details of keeping the house spotless. On a more serious note: Oh how I love my Dave, and oh how I love our life together. I used reverse psychology on myself. I don't know why. I never thought of myself as a super feminist at all. But, when I first moved in with a man, I did not like that he expected things. So, I wouldn't do them because I didn't want him to think I had to be 'obedient' or that I was performing "the woman's role." Does that make sense? Like-if he asked me to do something, I wouldn't do it because I didn't want him to think he was in control! I was trapped in my liberated world.

It caused problems at the beginning because our two totally different mothers had groomed us into two totally different people! We talked about it, and I told him that teamwork was key to a partnership. We set up expectations for the house, etc. and things are okay now.

But-the above 7 items. Yeah. They are still my quirks.