There is this great scene in the movie "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" (a surprisingly funny and entertaining movie, IMHO) where Sarah berates her ex for wearing the same pair of sweatpants for a whole week. Well Sarah, I feel your pain, but I am that man at the moment. These days I get up, change from my pj's into what I call my "daytime pyjamas" (paint-stained sweats, t-shirt with no bra if I'm really feeling casual, and stare at the computer until my eyes bug out. I wish I could claim that it's all work, but still a good portion of the staring has to do with blogs, or blogging, or (new thrill) playing with my best photos in the 30-day trial version of Adobe Lightroom I just downloaded. Oh, and participating in my first online chat with my teacher and some classmates for that film composition course I'm taking.
Sometimes I do this thing where I'm a total slob but then I can't stand it anymore and I get mad at J and then we throw some stuff out. And sometimes we clean the apartment in total harmony, without argument. And sometimes, like now, we are both being slobs in total harmony. I'm thinking well, I have school, and this composing job, so I don't have time, and he's thinking well I have to go film Jules' play and then come home and teach myself everything about Final Cut, so I don't have time. And we fester together, in happy slovenliness.
She writes (I would direct you there, but her blog is private) I love my kid but I am so missing the freedom to get up late and do what I want without all this planning and sometimes I realize that it's suppertime and I'm still wearing the same sweats I had on yesterday and I haven't even washed my face and I think Dude, I really sympathize, but when it comes to the sweats-wearing and the getting nothing done, I am exactly the same and I don't even have a kid!
Two close friends of mine had a big fight recently about... tidiness. They've been living in each other's pockets too long, roommates and bandmates and buddies, and it's wearing on their friendship, which is sad. I think they're going to need some time apart, from their friendship and their projects.
It gets hard, when you're in your thirties, to compromise any more. You don't want the beer-splashed sofas, the milk-crate furniture, the crusty dishes. But you get busy, too. There's work, and sometimes children, and all of a sudden you're standing in your kitchen shouting "Where's a damn maid when I need her? I need a servant, for god's sake!"
(or if you're me you could just wake up earlier and do some cleaning, fer godsake. But that would seriously cramp my go-to-bed-at-2am lifestyle, 'mkay?)