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That's so sweet, though it's sad to think of the effect that might end up having on the local Russian community's economy.
Yes, men do car repairs, mow the lawn, shovel snow, fix the roof, etc. These are things that either happen very occasionally or can be dealt with on a free Saturday afternoon off. And they're also often very visible male sources of pride and status ("yeah, I change my own oil/fix my own roof/painted my own house--why would I trust those things to anyone else when I can do them myself? And look at my lush green lawn!" In fact, there are some things that certain men attempt that are beyond their capabilities--my brother-in-law insisted on trying to hang a door for my mother and ended up destroying the doorframe, costing her a $300 carpenter's bill.)
Women's work, though, is mostly drudgework, it's time-consuming, and it's EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK. No one sees your clean kitchen or bathroom most of the time, unless you're perpetually throwing dinner parties. If you spend more than forty-five minutes cooking dinner, it gets wolfed down unappreciated in less than half the time. They're things that have to be done, and the only time they get noticed is when they're NOT done, so there's no payoff for most guys. And here's where it gets complicated: *you* would notice the dishes piling up in the sink, or the overflowing hamper, but he doesn't until he runs out of clean underwear or clean forks. And getting men to help out--to wash ALL the dishes, for instance, or to sort the clothes by color before dumping them in the washing machine or, God forbid, read the laundering instructions--is often seen as tantamount to cutting off their balls.
I love my husband, but this is a genuine sore point for me, can't you tell? I really don't think he GETS that, all these years, I've been doing the work of an unpaid servant after coming home from my own full time job while he comes home, cracks open a Diet Coke, and settles in to read Slashdot. And then he wants to know why I never finished my dissertation. We have gotten into screaming fights over this issue. It's the only thing we've EVER gotten into screaming fights over.
OK, I'm going to stop now and try to calm down by going to do the laundry. Which I have to go out and do at a laundromat because the machine at home has been broken, because my husband says he'll get around to it, just as soon as he's done preparing this week's lectures and grading and going off on trips to collaborate with other scientists, because why should we pay to have someone else fix it when he can do it himself? Especially now that I'm only bringing in a part-time income and all.
