(Our two-car garage is a mess. My husband insists I have to help tidy it.)

Husband: “We’ll take sides; you do that side and I’ll do this side. Most of the things on your side are yours.”

(I get to work tidying my side. He’s constantly watching so I don’t throw out anything that might remotely be his. If he’s not doing that, he’s fiddling around with his tools, not actually doing any tidying. I get my side looking good, and even set up a table so I can do some crafting out there. It’s taken me half the day, and his side has barely been touched.)

Me: “Okay, I’m finished, just in time to cook dinner.”

(It takes about half an hour to cook the dinner, and when it’s ready, I call my husband in.)

Me: “Are you going to continue cleaning after you eat?”

Husband: “I’m completely finished; my side of the garage is clean.”

(I couldn’t believe that he’d taken just half an hour to do it, after doing almost nothing out there for almost four hours. I walked out to find that the mess and rubbish from his side had now been moved to my side. The next day, he showed his brother his tidy side of the garage and what my side looks like. His brother has often called me lazy in the past, and this is no exception. My husband now wonders why I have to take photos of everything I do.)