Marry a Programmer and Never Do Housework Again!

People still do housework? I want to know where these couples are because they don’t live in this house. Maybe that’s what you get when you marry a programmer. NO HOUSEWORK.

Ok, I’m stretching the truth here, but I’m having a hard time believing a University of Michigan study that says:

1. Married women do 17 hours of housework a week.

2. Seven of these hours are created when they say “I Do”.

I’m trying to imagine what a women is possibly cleaning and cooking for 17 hours? Does she live in a mansion? And if you live in a mansion doesn’t it automatically come with maids?

First, let’s look at what the study defined as housework:

“It only included time spent cooking, cleaning, folding laundry, and other basic work around the house—not gardening, home repair, or washing the car. And it didn’t count supermarket trips, diaper changes, or testing a second grader on spelling words.“

What do I think of the tasks considered housework? You don’t need to do any of these things to live. The only essential thing I see is on the uncounted list: diaper changing. While I don’t have kids, I hope you consider changing your baby’s diaper essential. Everything else…is folding laundry really that important? You just unfold it to put on (I apply this same reasoning to bed making. Why make it when you’re just going to mess it up again in a few hours?). Cleaning: hire someone. Cooking/supermarket trips: hire someone or eat out. Gardening/house maintenance: hire someone.

You’re probably giving me the evil eye right about now.

“Anya must be rich to hire all these people,” you say.

Nope, not even close. But I have done some basic math. At what I earn an hour it makes far more sense to hire someone to do basic chores while I do my job. People don’t pay me to wash my dishes; they pay me to do my job. And after work, why would I want to push around a vacuum when I could be outside hiking or watching Curb Appeal?

I do admit to doing some chores. I cook from time to time. Why? Because I like to cook, not because the programmer expects dinner on the table. Yes, since getting married, I probably do more laundry-but the addition of the programmer’s clothes actually makes me more environmental. I have one of those washing machines that you can cram 24 pairs of jeans and a small goat into. I only own two pairs of jeans and no goat. Now, with my spouse’s clothes, I can actually run a full load of clothes instead of wasting water by running half a load.

How about division of labor between the husband and I? I actually can’t tell you whether the ‘division of labor’ has changed since we’ve gotten married; we each have our own things that we do. He grills, he paints, he clips the little fuzzies from the Berber carpet. I bake and putt around in the gardens. We knew what each other would and wouldn’t do before we got married. I told him I would never be June Cleaver and have a bad habit of tracking manure through the house. He told me that he would never, ever clean a toilet. And this brings me to my advice.

Why, whether you are a man or women, are you cleaning/cooking/mowing/etc? Was your answer: Because I have to? Who says? Who wrote this boring doctrine? No, you do not have to cook, clean and mow. You probably do these things because they’re what your mother and father did. And how happy are they with these chores, truly? (i.e. is your sweet mother downing a bottle of wine while she does the dishes; is your typically laid back father swearing under his breath when he hears the phrases “edge the lawn” and “trim the hedges”) Do you do these chores because you’ve watched too many old sitcoms (aka Leave It To Beaver)?

Stop! Stop doing chores you think you have to do just because other people in your life or on TV do them. Only do the things you want to do. Do you crave a pristine bathroom? Then clean it. But if your spouse is happy showering in a mildew jungle don’t get angry that he/she never cleans the bathroom. It’s not important to them, only to you. You want dinner on the table at 6. Well, then you better cook it.

The chores you’re willing to do (aka division of labor) should be sorted before you get married. (This also goes for topics such as having kids and religion). Just because my husband and I got married and professed are love in front of a crowd didn’t mean he would suddenly develop a burning urge to clean the bathroom or I would discover that folding laundry is fun. Do not expect your spouse to change once you get married. It just ain’t gonna happen.

As for how much official housework gets done by a programmer’s wife in a week. Probably only 5 hours (and that’s being generous). The programmer probably does about the same. So once again, I ask: what are women doing for 17 hours a week (and men for 13 hours)? I can only hope that for 17 and 13 hours you’re doing something that you really like (like cleaning grout with a toothbrush?) and that you’re only doing it for yourself NOT your spouse, neighbors, or in-laws. Trust me, people don’t give a crap if you dust your mantle, fold your laundry, or organize your books alphabetically. The urge to clean or cook is all about you and your perceptions. And sorry, it may sound harsh, but if you’re married to someone who insists on the bed being made but won’t do him/herself, then it’s time for you to hit the road.

The Programmer and Perfectionism

I read an article this morning about women and their quest for perfection. To me, this quest is unattainable (can we say Don Quixote but without the moral innocence) and frankly, why do we want to be perfect in all aspects of our lives? That and then the scientist part of me gets nitpicky:

1.  How do we measure perfection?

2.  What is the definition of perfection?

3.  How do we know when we’ve become perfect?

4.  What do we do when we achieve perfection? (fall over an die because there’s nothing more to do? get cryogenically frozen and put on display in a museum for posterity?)

Too much analysis for me.  While I think I understand the causes that launched today’s phenomenon of women attempting to be perfect (the perceived pressure for a pristine house with perfectly coordinated upholstery; gourmet yet home-cooked meals; smiling, happy, healthy, genius children; the right cars; the right neighborhood; a handsome, smart, sensitive spouse; an airbrushed body that competes with the models on magazine covers; an intellectually challenging, progressive work environment where you’re on the fast track for promotion every six months, and family and friends in the same stratosphere), I don’t have any desire to join the ranks of tired, unhappy, dissatisfied women striving for an ideal that someone else made up (of course maybe there are women who have achieved this supposed perfection and are therefore ecstatic-we just only ever hear of the people who aren’t quite making it).

I’m about as far from the above definition of perfect as one can be, and I have no interest in achieving it. I’m not in an up and coming neighborhood (but I adore my neighbors), I don’t have a car (I’d have to wash it and put gas in it), dinners are often soup and sandwiches, dishes get left in the sink over night (and ignored through the day), nothing in my house matches (because, frankly, I have zero fashion sense), I don’t have kids, well-adjusted or otherwise (and am on the receiving end of ‘you’re not getting any younger’ looks), I will never get a corner office unless I pay for it myself (since I’m self-employed), and even if I workout for two hours everyday and just eat lettuce, I’ll still have an ass. And I wouldn’t change any of this to have a ‘perfect life’. My house feels like home, my career goals are to be self-sufficient and to be able to pick and choose my clients, I can still fit into my jeans from college, and I love my friends and family though they’re strange, quirky, and sometimes just plain weird. In the end I’m happy with me, happy with where I am in my life, and can’t quite think how it can get any better than this.  (That does not mean I want this moment to last forever.  I have goals: I’d like to have more time to read books, I’d like to run a 5K a few minutes faster, I’d like to be part of an archaeological dig some place warm and exotic but not break any nails or sweat…)

Maybe why I’m able to deal with or ignore the pressure society/media/women put on women to be perfect is because I see the quest for perfectionism and its consequences numerous times a year. I am married to a programmer. Programmers can be absolutely obsessed with perfection. Learning the perfect language, finding the perfect framework, writing the perfect code, making it all perfectly clean and concise, having the perfect coding and testing environment on their computer(s)…and I could go on. In the programming facet of his life, my husband strives for perfection often-TO THE EXCLUSION OF ALL ELSE. Forget food, bathing, sleep, everything…about all he does is get up to use the bathroom.

To me this translates into: ‘If I try and have a perfect life, I won’t have any life to speak of‘.  Damn, that sucks.  And I promptly throw the idea of perfection out the window.

The other thing I’ve observed about the quest for perfection: IT JUST NEVER HAPPENS-the perfection part that is.  My husband has never found the perfect programming language, framework, working environment, etc. for a project (and I don’t think this is because he’s not smart).  Then he just gets upset.  Why is a project never perfect?  Well, because there are other people involved, budget constraints, time constraints, psycho clients with crazy request…the list goes on.  All the same factors will affect your ‘perfect life’; money, time, wacko children, family, and co-workers.  Let go, honey, you can’t control it all (and do you really want to?).

So while I may not be on a quest for perfection, how do I deal with a programmer who does desire perfection in at least one facet of his life?

Fact: I don’t understand his quest/obsession for programming nirvana, BUT I ACCEPT IT. I understood what he was like before I married him and had no delusions that he would change after we got married. So my advice to you, don’t try and be society’s vision of perfect (like we could define it any way) AND ALSO don’t expect your programmer to be perfect (in his programming or the rest of his life). You know how I listed the spouse as being handsome, smart and sensitive. Well, mine is handsome, smart in programming but not all that sensitive when his nose is pressed up against a monitor. But this supposed flaw doesn’t bring my life to a grinding halt. Programming is my husband’s life but my life is centered around a multitude of other things (and not my husband). He wants to spend Saturday programming, great! I’ll spend the day hiking, visiting friends, or pursuing my own work. My life doesn’t revolve around him nor does his revolve around me. We are companions, lovers, friends…not dependents. Sure, there are days where I try to persuade him out of his chair or nag at him to shave, and he’ll usually listen to me, but I also recognize when he is in his perfection mood and leave him alone.

Oh, and on the flipside, my husband doesn’t expect me to be ‘perfect’ either.  He point blank told me that he’ll never ever clean a toilet, even if his life depends on it, but he’s also never said anything to me when the bathrooms become tiny toxic waste pits…or his feet stick to the kitchen floor…or my outfit doesn’t match…or he’s out of underwear…or there are no clean glasses and if he wants dinner he better pick it up on his way home.

Now that’s love (and my definition of a perfect relationship).

Puke Kills Or What Not To Say In Bed

Programmers’ minds can be convoluted. Their thought process abstract. I think I’ve learned to follow most of my husband’s leaps from one topic to something seemingly unrelated without batting an eyelash after so many years of marriage.

But sometimes, he still makes my eyes cross and my brain hurt.

Last night as I snuggled into bed, my programmer came in to kiss me good night and wish me an early, happy Valentine’s Day. We cuddled, shared a few cute kisses…and then he said it:

“I almost threw up on you last night. “

Needless to say, I pulled back a little and blinked while he continued to natter on about whether this gross episode had been part of his dreams, bleary, late night code-induced reality, or something in between. While he’s mulling over this fuzzy zone of his memory, my freshly awakened hormones are involved in a thirty car pile-up. With a hazardous waste tractor trailer and a truck full of rabid chickens that pluck the eyeballs from the few survivors. Finally, a plane drops from the sky and squashes the few remaining feel good sparks flat as he muses about why he felt like throwing up on me.

I’m not a squeamish girl. I’ll actually do disgusting things that my husband won’t touch with a ten foot pole. But when you talk about vomit when we’d been working up to a session of cooing, moaning and toe-curling? Bleck. Yuck. Get away. All I could think about was changing the sheets because god only knew what he actually had done since he couldn’t remember anything but the desire to puke.

Romantic Tip #1 (I would have thought this tip was obvious, but now I feel it is worth reiterating.):

DO NOT. EVER. TELL YOUR LOVER YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING TO THROW UP ON THEM IN BED. NEVER EVER.

Now that’s the most important bit of Valentine’s Day advice. Ever.

Spread A Little Love, Programmer Style

Just because a programmer is starry-eyed and seemingly, completely absorbed with the latest release of Firefox or a new software framework (Seam (has nothing to do with sewing), Ruby (I’m not talking about a sparkly you can put on your finger), or Spring (not the season or something you can bounce on) doesn’t mean he or she isn’t cooking up ways to show the profoundness of their love for their spouse. Programmers just might not declare their love via traditional methods (flowers, candy, sparklies from an honest-to-goodness jewelry store). Heads up, programmers: BestBuy is not a jewelry store, a thumb drive on a lanyard doesn’t say quite the same thing as a string of pearls.

But programmers are very, very good at showing their spouses how much they love them using their techie skills.

Take Jay McCormack for example, a Solution Architect in Australia. I’m not quite sure what a Solution Architect is, but his blog contains words that my programmer uses (IMAP, Web 2.0, Open Source), so Jay’s getting shoved into my programmer classification. On his blog, he has a lovely, toe-curling (men, when a woman curls her toes, it’s a VERY good thing) accolade to his wife-he’s telling the whole world he can’t live without her. And while he’s the techie, I get the impression he’s hugely amused that his wife’s website is leaving his in the dust (think the almighty page rank quest).

So, programmer, use your unique skills to show your love. For example:

1. Write a blog entry about how much you love your wife (or husband).

2. Design a webpage for her own personal use (if she wants one), or make a private blog where the two of you can engage in digital flirting in your own personal cyberscape.

3. Bring home goodies from your conferences-sure the T-shirts and thumb drives are branded with logos she’s never seen, but she’ll know you were thinking about her even when you were getting bombarded with the latest and greatest technology.

4. Make sure she has her own techie stuff (i.e. the computer she wants (not your cast-off or what you think is best for her), a new mouse, her own girly mouse pad, an ergonomic chair made for her butt).

5. Ask her for a picture for your office (she’ll go all gooey that you want to show her off to your co-workers). Use her picture as your background on your monitor.

The Great Operating System Debate…

…and how it affects your life once you move in with the love of your life-your programmer.

Let’s look at my operating system timeline as an example.

Late ’90s: I discover computers; computers loaded with Windows. I muddle through email, WordPerfect, and become addicted to Civilization (one of my few claims to geekdom).

2000: Dating my programmer in earnest. He moves in. My computer becomes “duel booted”. When I start the computer I can choose to use the latest version of Windows or Linux.

2000-2002: Viciously defending my Windows partition. Not because I care whether I use Windows, Linux, or any other OS, but I LOVE playing my games. My line in the shag carpet: I’ll switch to Linux completely when I can still play my games. My programmer proposes.

2002: The programmer subscribes to and installs Transgaming’s Cedega^TM, sets it up on my computer so all my favorite games run, and Windows takes a permanent hike. I marry my programmer.

2002-present: Happily living in an Ubuntu computer environment.

The point of this example is not which OS I’m using, but the fact that I don’t really give a crap (sorry, love). I’ve heard the Pros and Cons for every OS debated heatedly (over beer, of course). The arguments start off technical (Linux is too hard to install) and usually disolve into personal attacks. Steve Jobs is an egotistical kook. Or, as an Apple Fanboy states in why he thinks Macs rock (and therefore Windows sucks):

“Bill Gates is evil. How can you pay the Devil?”

I nod, I grunt in agreement or sympathy regardless of which OS is being vilified or worshiped, but my eyes are glazed over and I’m secretly wondering where the waitress got her awesome sneakers.

So how do you stay sane when your computer is about to be hijacked by an unfamiliar OS?

1. Lay down the ground rules. Let your programmer know what programs you cannot live without. Do you need a special graphical or statistics program? Do you need certain games in order to relax? Do you want plug and play capability for your camera or MP3 player? Make sure you tell them your specifications. It won’t make the programmer mad-if anything, they’ll see it as a quest, to see if they can find equivalent programs or a way to use them with their OS of choice.

2. Get your programmer to sit down with you and run through the system, showing you what is the same and what is different. Be very clear that you just want to know how the programs work-not why they work. Side Note: This is where I arouse the ire of programmers everywhere; I see little difference between what I call the big three (Mac OS X, Windows Vista, and, say, a Linux distribution like Ubuntu). Macs are really bubbly, Windows looks like a Kindergarten class bulletin board, and Linux distributions range in looks between bubbly and elementary. They all have office suites, they all can surf the internet, they all store your files. Yeah, yeah, I know they all do these things differently behind the scenes, but I’m really not interested as long as it works.

3. View this as an adventure. Don’t be afraid to learn something new. Remember, learning new skills may keep dementia and Alzheimer’s disease at bay. Also, you’ve now got another skill to put on your resume.

4. Not willing to compromise or don’t trust your programmer to obey your technology wishes? Come up with a really good login password and don’t tell your programmer. Threatening to delete all his or her MP3s also works (yes, I had to stoop to threats at one point).

Pursued by a Lusty Programmer (aka Dating)

I mentioned in my first post, What is a Programmer, that dating a programmer is very different from cohabitating with a keyboard-caressing code maestro. Programmers typically possess terabytes of focus. And let me tell you, having that all-consuming mind directed at you is wonderful, ego-inflating, and possibly love-inducing. He/she pursues you, hangs on to your every word, sends gifts (and ten emails per day), and devotes days, nights, and weekends to spending time with you. Sure, they may be a little unfashionable (the first time I met my future husband he was wearing too-short, faded navy dockers his mom had bought him in middle school-the boy had been out of middle school for a good ten years), those gifts are sometimes a little strange (T-shirts touting computer companies and products), but they remember the things you like, research them, and then take you to a new French restaurant (your favorite kind of cuisine) and get those coveted Broadway tickets.

Programmers LISTEN - when they’re dating you.

However, on the most basic level of the programmer’s mind, you are a problem to be solved. They want you. They NEED you. Therefore they are going to allocate all their resources to getting you. Once they’ve acquired you (project objectives: complete), they’re moving on to the next problem.

They still love you. They still lust after you. The relationship has just shifted into the maintenance phase. The programmer only checks back when a bug is filed (i.e. you’re having a hissy fit about the dirty socks hanging off the stairway railing).

Don’t worry. If you decide to let your programmer catch you, I have tons of tips I’ll share later on how to live (and stay sane) with your programmer.