Author's Note: So, this is totally random and I have renamed this story title from 'To Love is To Gain' to 'Random Musings' because this is kind of fun. LOL. This little Drabble was inspired by an Indian Ariel detergent commercial #ShareTheLoad whereby the father proceeds to apologize to his daughter for not being a better example when it comes to doing chores around the house to help out his wife. Go watch it on YouTube; it's seriously great! Any-who, this little Drabble is just about newlywed Olitz who are having some troubles with finding the right balance when it comes to domesticated living. I literally whipped this up within the last two hours, lol. Hope you enjoy this, and you will be seeing more of these random Drabbles coming your way, so be sure to follow and favorite and please leave a review at the end. Thank you!

Domestication

I ask myself, a self-proclaimed feminist – believer of gender equality and eliminator of gender roles – why do I put up with this silently? Why after two months of newly wedded bliss I remain the dutiful wife who is haggard out after a day's work to start the second shift? Is this what love does? Keep you silently suffering just because you want to appear as the most put together person? Or, is it because I feel some guilt for being the one who has trained him this way? A mixture of both, probably. Past memories of enabling his behavior rushes back to me, "You relax, I got this. Don't worry about the dishes, I'll clean them." Or my absolute favorite, "no, I'm not tired, I got this." But now I am and he's too oblivious to see. This has become our norm. He has come to expect me to do certain things while he contributed handsomely to our joint account. But, here's the thing, I do the same and then come home to do more. I'm at my wits end. We really need to talk. As soon as he gets home we are going to talk.

But instead of talking we are at each other's throat. Truthfully, I couldn't blame him because the minute he entered through the door of our two-bedroom apartment and carelessly tossed his suit jacket on the single armchair in our living room, I flew off the handle from my spot on the couch in front of the TV. "There's a place for that, you know," I said, my voice was low but my tone very snide. I didn't even bother returning his "hi, babe" greeting, which is enough evidence to show how upset I am. He looks at me dumbfounded but retrieves his suit jacket anyway and proceeds to hang it up in the small coat closet near our dark brown front door. But that isn't enough so I continued, "and while you're at it, can you remove your shoes from the front door too because I'm tired of always doing it."

"What you mean you always do it?" His normally pleasant face upturns in displeasure as he speaks.

"We need to talk," I returned, instead of answering his question, which was more rhetorical to me than anything else.

My husband sighs, his shoulders visibly tensing under the crisp white button down shirt – compliments of me, of course. "Can't this wait till later? I just got home and all I want to do right now is to relax." He states, running his fingers through the nape of his dark brown curls.

His words got my spine to straighten. "As a matter of fact it can't. I have something important to discuss and I've waited long enough." I take quite a few deep breaths to quell my anxiety and also to control my anger because I needed to remain levelheaded when I spoke. I remember what our premarital counselor advised that 'nothing is resolved in hostility', and partially took heed.

But somehow my husband misses the earnest tone in my voice and doesn't hear the underlying plea. So he lashes out. "Olivia, I'm tired! Ok! We can talk about this later but right now I need some downtime to relax and unwind. I haven't been home for a full minute and you're already at my throat."

And before I can filter it, words begin leaking from my mouth, "I'm at your throat because I'm tired, too! Ok? I am tired of having to clean up your mess day in and day out. I wanted to talk to you about this as two mature adults but you're behaving like a stubborn mule!" From my seat on the couch still half dress in my work clothes I feel all the pent up aggression of the past few months coursing through me. "I work everyday just like you, Fitz. Then, I come home and I cook dinner and I clean and I do the laundry and every other thing that needs to be done around here." I count every single chore on my fingers as I listed them just to emphasize my point. "I am tired of doing all of this alone."

He gives me a flabbergasted look for a split second before he rebuttals my accusation. "What are you even talking about? I don't cook because you told me you don't like the way I cook, so I leave you be. And you said you were totally fine with doing the laundry so don't make me out to be the bad guy here, Olivia." He is pissed and so am I.

"But instead of saying "Babe, teach me how to cook" you automatically tossed the responsibility onto me. And what about cleaning? I have to pick up after you Fitz, and it is not fair! I'm tired."

"So why not say something? Why go around pretending like everything is all right, expecting me to read your mind? I'm not a mind reader for god sake. If you don't communicate with me how the hell am I to know how you're feeling?" He had a point, I admit honestly.

Looking around our mostly clean living room – the white walls, dark red carpet and shiny wooden floors – I had to reevaluate the tone in which I'm trying to get my point across in. Whoever said living together is easy, are liars. Almost three months of cohabitation have taught me that it requires hard work, even in the simplest of places.

I take a deep breath and run my fingers through my chin length bob and express, "I'm sorry." And I truly am. I promised myself to never be that nagging wife but here I was. We stare at each other for a few seconds and from what I can see, my simple apology has made my husband soften and after a short while he makes his way over to me on the couch. The smell of his cologne – still strong like when he first applied it that morning, tickles my nostrils and even though we are currently fighting it warms the pit of my stomach.

Without any prompting he takes my hands into his and angles his body in a way so that we are facing each other. His clear blue eyes regarded me intently, letting me know that I have his full attention. I moistened my lower lip with my tongue and I continue to express myself, "I'm really sorry for attacking you at the door. You know I never want to be that nagging wife but this has been bothering me. I really need you to start helping me around here. I'm tired of having to do it all by myself." I can feel the moisture pooling in my eyes as I become vulnerable under his gaze.

He also licks his lower lip before opening his mouth and utters a sincere apology. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't think it was a problem and I'm sorry that I was too oblivious to see anything amiss. What do you need me to do that will ease some of the burden?"

Tears begin falling from eyes because I can't hold them back any longer. I know it shouldn't come as any surprise that this beautiful man that I've known for four years and married to for 2 months would be empathetic towards my needs but I was emotional and relieved... So we begin talking and talking about what measures can be put in to place that will prevent a reoccurrence of today. And when all was said and done, I promised to work on my communication skills.

'Newly Wedded Work' as I like to call it isn't so bad after all.

Chao!