My Husband Said I Didn’t Need Home Appliances to Handle Chores — Here’s What Happened Next

My Husband Refused to Help Me Buy Home Appliances, Saying I Could Do the Chores Without Them

“YOU’VE GOT TWO HANDS, DON’T YOU?” Selena’s husband said she didn’t need a dishwasher, a robot vacuum, or even a cooker to keep the house clean, therefore he wouldn’t assist her get any of these items. Selena delivered him a memorable wake-up call after deciding that enough was enough after eight years of being taken for granted.

If the person you loved and who vowed to support you treated you like a mere tool, how would you respond? Or a housekeeper? I’ve been struggling with that question ever since my husband, Carl, declined to assist me in purchasing the appliances we much needed.

Background: A year ago, I acquired the old house that belonged to my late grandma. Although it was in poor condition, it belonged to us. I renovated it with every last cent of my inheritance, upgrading the floors, repairing the plumbing, and rebuilding the roof. I was broke by the time it was nearly finished.

My grandmother’s words, “A house isn’t just walls and floors, sweetheart,” reverberated in my mind as I stood in the kitchen one evening, gazing at the ratty worktops. It’s the effort you make to turn it into a home.

I wiped away a tear and said, “I’m trying, Grandma,” to the empty room. “I’m really trying.”

A few essential appliances were still missing from the property. I worked full-time and took care of most of the domestic tasks, so having a dishwasher, a multipurpose cooker, and a robot vacuum would make life easier.

I thought it wouldn’t be a huge deal and asked Carl to help pay for it. I assumed that when my paycheck arrived, I would reimburse him half of the bonus he had recently received at work.

I said it casually one night after supper. “Hey, I am aware that you received a bonus this month. Could we purchase the necessary appliances with a portion of it? It would mean a lot if we could resolve these issues right now because the house is almost finished.

He never even raised his head from his phone. “What appliances?”

“A cooker, a robot vacuum, and a dishwasher,” I replied. “As soon as I receive my check, I will reimburse you half. I simply—”

He smirked and interrupted me. “If those things take care of all my needs, why do I need YOU? Then, what would you even do?

I froze and looked at him. “What?”

He said nonchalantly, “You don’t need those gadgets,” as like he hadn’t just gutted me. “You’ve been managing just fine without them.”

“Are you doing okay? Do you know what it’s like to spend hours doing dishes by hand after a long day at work? Till my knees hurt, to scrub floors?”

He gave an eye roll. “Selena, stop being so emotional. My mother got along just well without any of these glitzy devices.

“I’m not your mother!” I blew up, hitting the kitchen counter with my palm. “I’m your wife, Carl.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” he retorted sharply. “You are my wife. Those appliances are not necessary for you to complete the task.

I felt like I was slapped across the face by his remarks. Tears threatened to escape from my eyes as my chest constricted, but I forced myself to swallow them.

“I’ve been repairing this house for months, Carl. My savings are all gone. I’m not making a lot of demands. These are items that will simplify our lives.

He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “You’re going overboard. All this fancy stuff is unnecessary for you. “Don’t you have two hands?”

What I was hearing was unbelievable. I had been married to this man for eight years. The man who once cared and supported me. He was suddenly behaving as though I was requesting the moon.

His comments, “Why do I need you if these things do everything I need?” kept playing in my head as I lay awake in bed that night.

I reflected on how much I had sacrificed since Carl sold his own home to fund that business endeavor, the one that was a complete failure, and how hard I had worked to make this house a home. For what purpose? For a partner who was incapable of assisting me with something so basic?

I turned over and gazed at his sleeping body in the shadows. “Remember our wedding vows?” Knowing he couldn’t hear me, I muttered. “Carl, you said you would be my partner. “Whatever became of that man?”

I began to question whether my parents had been correct for the first time. For years, they had told me that Carl might not be who I believed him to be. As my mother used to remark, “You’re always giving, Selena,” “But is he giving anything back?”

I dismissed her, thinking she was exaggerating. However, I was no longer able to ignore it. Carl saw me as someone who existed to SERVE him, not just someone he took for granted. and to prepare meals and clean up after him. And I felt a fire ignite within of me at that revelation.

I’ll be honest: I wasn’t pleased with my subsequent actions. But I was angry at the time. Additionally, rage can also lead to foolish, trivial actions.

The following morning was when it began. Totally oblivious to the pain his remarks had caused the previous evening, Carl headed out for his morning stroll.

His dismissal kept repeating in my mind as I sat there enraged, staring at the four dozen eggs in the refrigerator and asking myself, “Why do I need you if these things do everything I need?”

Then I had a thought. A childish, absurd, and petty notion.

After grabbing the eggs, I went to our bedroom. I began stuffing them, one by one, into Carl’s jeans and t-shirts’ pockets. I folded everything nicely after making sure the yolk soaked into every nook and cranny.

“How’s this for having two hands, Carl?” I cracked another egg and mumbled. “Is this what you wanted them for?”

After finishing, I packed all of the destroyed clothing into a black trash bag and tightly sealed it.

However, I needed a location to conceal it so that Carl wouldn’t discover it right away but would still be driven crazy by the stink. I then recalled the stitching that ran between his car’s trunk and backseat. The ideal place to hide.

I picked up a pair of scissors and carefully tore open the seam where the trunk and backseat joined. I made sure the trash bag was shoved deep into the small opening. I then sewed the seam shut once again using some thread and a sewing kit I had hidden in the kitchen.

It was nice enough that Carl wouldn’t notice, but it wasn’t flawless. I took a step back to look at my work, feeling both guilty and satisfied at the same time.

Carl began moaning about his car’s foul odor over the course of the following few days.

One evening, he complained, “Selena,” throwing his keys on the counter, “my car smells like something died in there.”

I maintained a neutral expression. “Really? That’s strange. “Have you left any food in there?”

“No!” he yelled, wrinkled his nose in protest. “I’ve even looked beneath the seats, but I’m still baffled. It’s repulsive. Even while I’m driving, I can smell it.

Carl became increasingly frustrated over the course of the following two weeks. He washed the car thoroughly, sprayed half a bottle of air freshener, and scrubbed the floors. But the stench just grew worse despite his best efforts.

One evening, he yelled, “I can’t take this anymore!” and barged into the house. “My coworkers no longer even want to carpool with me. My automobile smells like a dumpster, they say.

Calmly, I stirred my coffee. “Dear, that must be really inconvenient for you. When basic appliances could be used, it’s nearly as inconvenient as doing everything by hand.

He gave me a dubious look, but I maintained an innocent demeanor. In the meantime, I felt strangely… content.

Carl was complaining about the stink still being there one night as he tossed and turned in bed, so I thought it was time for the big reveal. The following morning, I woke up early, took out a piece of paper, and wrote:

“Why do I need you if I have these eggs? ;)”

After that, I crept outside and inserted the note into the trunk. The note would be the first thing he would notice if he opened it.

Carl muttered something under his breath as he strode into the kitchen later that morning. He grabbed his flashlight and stated, “I’m checking the car thoroughly one last time.” “I’m trading it in if I can’t figure it out. This is crazy.

As he made his way to the car, I observed him through the glass. I watched him stop for a second when he popped the trunk. With an expression of complete bewilderment, he reached for the note and held it up.

Finding the trash bag didn’t take him long.

He dragged it inside and screamed, “What the hell is this?”

I leaned against the kitchen counter with my arms crossed. “Why don’t you open it and find out?”

The fragrance hit him as soon as he undid the bag, and he instantly shrank back. As he took out one of his destroyed white t-shirts, with the shells and rotting yellow yolk still stuck to the fabric, his face contorted in disgust.

He said, “Are you insane?” “What is wrong with you?”

I took a step forward and looked him in the eye. “What am I doing wrong? Carl, what’s wrong with YOU? I am not respected by you. You don’t respect me. You believe that I’m here to take care of everything so you can relax and enjoy the results.”

He sputtered, “This is crazy!” while displaying the torn clothing.

Something inside of me snapped. “No, Carl. You’ve been treated like your own maid for almost eight years. This is about me breaking my back doing everything around here while you spend your bonus on golf equipment and expensive watches!”

He appeared astonished. “This is about the stupid appliances, isn’t it?”

I yelled, “This is about everything,” “Even something as basic as assisting me purchase a dishwasher was beyond your capabilities. Are you aware of how I felt about that?

He raised his hands and exclaimed, “Selena, you’re blowing this out of proportion.” “It’s just a few appliances —”

“No, Carl. It goes beyond the appliances. It’s about your lack of concern. It has to do with the years you have taken me for granted. Do you recall our first marriage? In the past, you assisted with the dishes. You once cared about improving our shared lives. “Whatever became of that man?”

With the ripped shirt still hanging from his hand, he became silent.

“You know what? “I’m finished,” I yelled.

It was time to reclaim my life since I had put his wants ahead of my own for far too long. I packed everything he owned and left it by the door that evening. I realized I couldn’t continue in a marriage where I wasn’t appreciated, even though it wasn’t easy.

When I filed for divorce, Carl was taken by surprise. He made an effort to apologize and persuade me to return, but I refused to listen.

He pleaded, “Please,” at one of our last sessions. “I’ll purchase any appliances you desire. I’ll do more household chores. Give me another chance, please.

I fought back tears as I shook my head. “Carl, that’s the problem. The appliances were never the point. It has to do with feeling appreciated. And I’m entitled to anything better than using rotten eggs to force my argument into your car.”

After a few months, I was in my kitchen getting my new dishwasher ready. I had saved money and purchased it myself, along with a robot vacuum and a multipurpose stove. I was filled with pride and relief as I stood there and watched the dishwasher go through its first cycle.

I felt free for the first time in years.

A nice, encouraging man who appreciates me for who I am is someone else I met. And believe me when I say that there is a huge difference.

He informed me, “You shouldn’t have to do everything yourself,” one evening while we were loading the dishwasher. “That’s what partnerships are about… sharing the load.”

I grinned, thinking how far I’d come. Sometimes, it takes something petty and juvenile to open your eyes. For me, it was a bag of eggs.