Carta A Mi Esposo Para Que Reflexione

Honey, I'm writing you this... thing. Consider it a note. Or maybe a strongly worded suggestion. Let's just call it "Food for Thought."

Remember that time I asked you to take out the trash? It's not a rhetorical question, by the way. It actually happened. More than once, even!

I’m not saying you’re the worst. Honestly. I’m just saying there's room for improvement. A lot of room. Like, Grand Canyon-sized room for improvement.

Operation: Self-Awareness

Okay, so maybe "Operation" is a bit much. How about "Project?" "Initiative?" No? Fine, we'll stick with Self-Awareness. It sounds less threatening.

First, let’s talk socks. Specifically, the mountain of socks that magically appears beside the bed. It's like a sock gremlin visits every night.

Secondly, the dishes. I know, I know, nobody loves doing dishes. But they’re multiplying like rabbits in the sink! It’s a ceramic bunny farm.

The Great Remote Control Mystery

Where does it go? Seriously! It's always missing. Is it in a parallel universe? Did the dog eat it?

And when you *do* find it, why is it always on that documentary about deep-sea creatures? I swear, I’m starting to dream about anglerfish. Thanks, National Geographic!

Let's not forget the classic: the half-eaten bag of chips. Left open. On the counter. Attracting every crumb-crazed ant for miles. It's a crumb-ageddon, I tell you!

A Few Humble Requests (Demands?)

Perhaps a new hobby? Consider learning to fold laundry. Think of it as origami, but with your underwear. You could be the next Martha Stewart of neatly folded boxers!

Or maybe try mastering the art of putting the toilet seat down. It's a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. Seriously, *volumes*!

And then there's the phone. Putting it down. Just for, like, five minutes. Engage with the real world. I promise, I’m much more interesting than that Instagram reel about cats playing the piano.

The Goal: Peaceful Coexistence (and a Cleaner House)

I’m not trying to nag. I swear! Well, maybe a little. But only because I love you. And because I like a clean house. Okay, mostly because of the clean house.

Think of this as a loving nudge. A gentle poke. A polite but firm suggestion that maybe, just maybe, you could be a slightly less slobby version of yourself. For me? Please.

Ultimately, I just want us to be a happy team. A well-oiled machine. A partnership where the dishes don't stage a hostile takeover of the kitchen sink. Is that too much to ask?

So, darling husband, read this with an open mind. And maybe a rubber glove. Because those dishes aren’t going to wash themselves!

Love, Your slightly exasperated, but eternally loving, Wife. (P.S. Don’t forget the trash!)