We have a basket of blankets upstairs in the family room. We use the blankets regularly when we snuggle on the couch to read or watch TV. Brandt, in a fit of boredom or annoyance or something, threw all the blankets (six) and the basket over the railing to the landing at the bottom of the stairs. It created a dangerous and inconvenient pile of warmth. I stepped over it several times as we were in and out yesterday (mostly out), so it wasn't until I was preparing to start dinner that I suggested he help me pick up the mess. Please note here, I said "help me pick up the mess." I was not expecting him to pick up everything by himself because I knew that wouldn't happen, but I did want him to help as he had made the mess.
He resisted. A lot. He threw himself onto the pile of blankets and writhed around, making ridiculous claims about not being able to lift them because they were so heavy. How did he manage to heft them over the railing and fling them down a floor? Hard to say. I folded a couple of blankets and put them in the basket, and he picked up the smallest one and carried it upstairs, but two were left on the landing. When we came back downstairs I asked him to carry one more up and I would carry the other, and then we would be done. Alas, more writhing. More flailing. More nonsense. I lost patience and asked in a somewhat irritated voice,
"Why should I have to be the person who cleans up your messes? Why should it be me?"
"I'm doing other things," was his immediate reply.
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