Freaky Friday

When I was a teenager, I read Freaky Friday, a book about a mom and daughter who mysteriously switched bodies. They thereby learn the difficulties of each other's lives and come to appreciate each other. (If you weren't plowing through the young adult section of your local library in the 1990's, like me, then you might have seen the story in the 1976 or 2003 movie versions.)

When Andrew and I moved in together, a few years before we got married, we spent some months negotiating the household chores. We had to figure out what each of us was good at (me: cooking, him: fixing), and what we hated doing (me: cleaning, him:picking stuff up). At one point we weren't sure our arrangement was sufficiently fair, so we switched up everything for a week. Next week, we're going to do that again. He'll cook and do most of the dishes, and I'll drive us to school and walk the dog. We've decided to remove any disasters in the making, so there won't be any dinner parties or major home repairs. And I hope, at the end, that we both appreciate a bit more how much the other does for the family.