As I have said here before, I'm a terrible housekeeper. If it were left to me, the carpets would get vacuumed only if we were expecting guests, the bathrooms would be terrifying, and the dishes would sit in the sink for months*.
It's not deliberate; I just really don't notice. I do try; I clean the bathroom every now and then, and try to remember to bag the trash when the bag is full, and put stuff in the dishwasher. I do laundry on my days off... sometimes. But the piles of projects have taken over the sitting room (I'm working on three at once, right now), and I get so wrapped up in whatever I'm enthusiastic about, that I really don't see that chores need doing.
Bob does not complain, though he'll ask me to do stuff sometimes, and I feel terrible that he had to ask. I thank him constantly for doing chores - for instance, we normally grocery-shop together, but I've been in such pain this week (still don't have one of the meds I need, making do with the two others), that he went grocery shopping on his own. I was very, very grateful. He's also done laundry, emptied all the trash cans, and run the dishwasher at least once.
I suck. He loves me anyway.
I keep the farm pretty clean, but that's because we get a steady stream of visitors. Even then, I don't always mop the floor (I figure it will only get dirty again), and dust will settle in some places I forget about. But I always have clean sheets for guests. I suppose that's the main thing, right?
Anyway. I love my husband.
Mind you, I could live with a guy who expected me to do all the housework in addition to working, and I still wouldn't do the housework any more than I do - we'd just fight a lot more. And I bet I could make him give up and start doing it himself because it was easier. The Patriarchy may have twisted me in many ways, but it won't win on this one; I'm a Zen master when it comes to not seeing dirt.
*I'm really not kidding about this one. In my first marriage, I was expected to do all the housework, and the apartment did not have a dishwasher. The dishes sat in the sink once for a month and a half before I got to them, because Ex refused to do anything around the house "because I bring in a paycheck"**. The first clue should have been when I dated him, and the sink in his apartment had a pile of dishes that had been there so long (4 months, I think he said) that the ones on the bottom had grown together. Instead of running, I washed them.
**Ex devalued my entire existence because I did not bring any money in. Even though I maintained the entire house and garden, none of it counted as much as his 8hr/day job. He still thinks I left him because Bob bought me presents. *eye roll*