I was thinking about this the other day.
Women have amazing vision. Here’s an example. Nicole and I walk into our apartment.
I see toys on the floor, a shirt on the chair, and the couch. I don’t think anything about these things. I just see them.
But Nicole sees them and see all kinds of additional information about those objects.
Take the toy. She knows not only what it is, but why it’s there, where it should be, how far away it is from where it should be, and how long it’s been there. She can see charts, bar graphs, and thermal levels on it.
She gets the same information about each object in the room. She can also detect any dust or dirt, or if a picture’s off-center. Then, she compiles all this information into an internal brain report to determine how mad she’s going to be. This all happens within 2.5 seconds of walking into our apartment. Typically, she says, “Our apartment’s a mess.” That’s my cue to begin cleaning.
Not only can she see data, she can see stuff that’s not even there, yet.
Take the couch. I see a couch. But she sees new pillows. She says, “We need some more pillows.” The next day, I see pillows on the couch and she sees a stain on one of the pillows.
Charts and reports compile in her brain.
The next day, I see a table. She says, “That table’s looking empty.” The next day, I see flowers on the table. She sees the pollen that’s dropping on the table.
She’s like an interior decorating and cleaning Terminator. Women are crazy robots.
While we’re at it [and before I go crazy-lady on Ryan for leaving the remote control on the floor], you may as well see what Nick had to say in response. Here ya go:
Amigo,
I have had this in my inbox at home, waiting to send back a thorough response. This, unfortunately, is as thorough as its going to get.
I think Jess has equal capacity for charts, graphs, and thorough analysis in regard to the house. What blows me away is the different conclusion drawn at the end of her fully detailed internal report, and my quasi attempt to evaluate the situation. For instance, we come home from a three day weekend, both exhausted, a bit grumpy because the weekend is over, and walk in to the house …. all looks relatively clean to me. a few things on the coffee table. a dish in the sink. i compute …. ahhh, so good to be home. i’m going to drop this crap on the floor, and sit on the couch and watch some soccer.
she computes and nearly immediately …”This place is DISGUSTING!” and the amazing thing is that she really means it. She really is disgusted, as if we’ve just walked into an actual shit hole. full of poo. poo everywhere. her voice, body language, overall attitude towards me, etc. all reflect that we live in a hole of poo. this is my cue to start putting all things away ‘in their proper places’ obviously, and prepare for an evening of cleaning (well, until greys anatomy comes on).
I have managed to get cleaning down to one night a week, for about an hour. so am pretty happy with that. but have no idea how this will all work when baby comes along.
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