My Husband Refused to Buy a New Washing Machine and Told Me to Wash Everything by Hand — Because He Promised His Mom a Vacation Instead

Six months postpartum, drowning in baby laundry, and exhausted beyond words, I thought my husband would understand when our washing machine broke. But instead of helping, he shrugged and said, “Just wash everything by hand—people did it for centuries.”

I never thought I’d spend this much time doing laundry.

A tired woman in a chair | Source: Pexels

A tired woman in a chair | Source: Pexels

Six months ago, I gave birth to our first baby. Since then, my life had turned into a never-ending cycle of feeding, changing diapers, cleaning, cooking, and washing. So much washing. Babies go through more clothes in a day than an entire football team.

On a good day, I washed at least eight pounds of tiny onesies, burp cloths, blankets, and bibs. On a bad day? Let’s just say I stopped counting.

A woman doing laundry | Source: Pexels

A woman doing laundry | Source: Pexels

So when the washing machine broke, I knew I was in trouble.

I had just pulled out a soaking pile of clothes when it sputtered, let out a sad grinding noise, and died. I pressed the buttons. Nothing. I unplugged it, plugged it back in. Nothing.

My heart sank.

When Billy got home from work, I wasted no time.

A tired puzzled woman | Source: Pexels

A tired puzzled woman | Source: Pexels

“The washing machine is dead,” I said as soon as he stepped through the door. “We need a new one.”

Billy barely looked up from his phone. “Huh?”

“I said the washing machine broke. We need to replace it. Soon.”

He nodded absently, kicked off his shoes, and scrolled through his screen. “Yeah. Not this month.”

A man on his phone in his living room | Source: Pexels

A man on his phone in his living room | Source: Pexels

I blinked. “What?”

“Not this month,” he repeated. “Maybe next month when I get my salary. Three weeks.”

I felt my stomach twist. “Billy, I can’t go three weeks without a washing machine. The baby’s clothes need to be cleaned properly every day.”

A couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels

A couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels

Billy sighed like I was asking for something unreasonable. He put his phone down and stretched his arms over his head. “Look, I already promised to pay for my mom’s vacation this month. She really deserves it.”

I stared at him. “Your mom’s vacation?”

“Yeah. She’s been babysitting for us. I thought it’d be nice to do something for her.”

Babysitting?

A shocked woman | Source: Pexels

A shocked woman | Source: Pexels

I swallowed hard. His mother came over once a month. She sat on the couch, watched TV, ate the dinner I cooked, and took a nap while the baby slept. That wasn’t babysitting. That was visiting.

Billy kept talking like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me. “She said she needed a break, so I figured I’d cover her trip. It’s just for a few days.”

A man talking to his wife in his kitchen | Source: Pexels

A man talking to his wife in his kitchen | Source: Pexels

I crossed my arms. “Billy, your mom doesn’t babysit. She comes over, eats, naps, and goes home.”

He frowned. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, really? When was the last time she changed a diaper?”

Billy opened his mouth, then shut it. “That’s not the point.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I think it is.”

A couple arguing in their kitchen | Source: Pexels

A couple arguing in their kitchen | Source: Pexels

He groaned, rubbing his face. “Look, can’t you just wash everything by hand for now? People used to do that for centuries. Nobody died from it.”

I stared at him, feeling my blood boil. Wash everything by hand. Like I wasn’t already drowning in work, exhausted, aching, and running on three hours of sleep a night.

An angry woman clutching her head | Source: Pexels

An angry woman clutching her head | Source: Pexels

I took a slow, deep breath, my hands clenching into fists. I wanted to yell, to scream, to make him understand how unfair this was. But I knew Billy. Arguing wouldn’t change his mind.

I exhaled and looked at the pile of dirty clothes stacked by the door. Fine. If he wanted me to wash everything by hand, then that’s exactly what I’d do.

The first load wasn’t so bad.

A pile of clothes | Source: Pexels

A pile of clothes | Source: Pexels

I filled the bathtub with soapy water, dropped in the baby’s clothes, and started scrubbing. My arms ached, but I told myself it was temporary. Just a few weeks.

By the third load, my back was screaming. My fingers were raw. And I still had towels, bedsheets, and Billy’s work clothes waiting for me.

A tired woman sitting near a bathtub | Source: Midjourney

A tired woman sitting near a bathtub | Source: Midjourney

Every day was the same. Wake up, feed the baby, clean, cook, do laundry by hand, wring it out, hang it up. By the time I was done, my hands were swollen, my shoulders stiff, and my body exhausted.

Billy didn’t notice.

A bored man on a couch | Source: Pexels

A bored man on a couch | Source: Pexels

He came home, kicked off his shoes, ate the dinner I cooked, and stretched out on the couch. I could barely hold a spoon, but he never once asked if I needed help. Never looked at my hands, red and cracked from hours of scrubbing.

One night, after I’d finished washing another pile of clothes, I collapsed onto the couch next to him. I winced as I rubbed my aching fingers.

Billy glanced at me. “What’s wrong with you?”

A tired woman on her couch | Source: Pexels

A tired woman on her couch | Source: Pexels

I stared at him. “What’s wrong with me?”

He shrugged. “You look tired.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Gee, I wonder why.”

He didn’t even flinch. Just turned back to the TV. That was the moment something snapped inside me.

An annoyed woman in her kitchen | Source: Pexels

An annoyed woman in her kitchen | Source: Pexels

Billy wasn’t going to understand—not unless he felt the inconvenience himself. If he wanted me to live like a 19th-century housewife, then fine. He could live like a caveman.

So I planned my revenge.

The next morning, I packed his lunch as usual. Except instead of the big, hearty meal he expected, I filled his lunchbox with stones. Right on top, I placed a folded note.

A lunchbox filled with rocks | Source: Midjourney

A lunchbox filled with rocks | Source: Midjourney

Then I kissed his cheek and sent him off to work.

And I waited.

At exactly 12:30 PM, Billy stormed through the front door, red-faced and furious.

“What the hell have you done?!” he shouted, slamming his lunchbox onto the counter.

I turned from the sink, wiping my hands on a towel. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

A laughing woman in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A laughing woman in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney

He flipped open the lid, revealing the pile of rocks. He grabbed the note and read it out loud.

“Men used to get food for their families themselves. Go hunt your meal, make fire with stones, and fry it.”

His face twisted in rage. “Are you out of your damn mind, Shirley? I had to open this in front of my coworkers!”

I crossed my arms. “Oh, so public humiliation is bad when it happens to you?”

A shouting man wearing glasses | Source: Pexels

A shouting man wearing glasses | Source: Pexels

Billy clenched his jaw. He looked like he wanted to yell, but for once, he didn’t have a comeback.

I crossed my arms and tilted my head. “Go on, Billy. Tell me how this is different.”

His jaw tightened. “Shirley, this is—this is just childish.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I see. So your suffering is real, but mine is just me being childish?”

An angry woman lecturing her husband | Source: Pexels

An angry woman lecturing her husband | Source: Pexels

He threw his hands in the air. “You could have just talked to me!”

I stepped forward, fire burning in my chest. “Talked to you? I did, Billy. I told you I couldn’t go three weeks without a washing machine. I told you I was exhausted. And you shrugged and told me to do it by hand. Like I was some woman from the 1800s!”

A woman turning away from her husband | Source: Pexels

A woman turning away from her husband | Source: Pexels

His nostrils flared, but I could see the tiny flicker of guilt creeping in. He knew I was right.

I pointed at his lunchbox. “You thought I’d just take it, huh? That I’d wash and scrub and break my back while you sat on that couch every night without a care in the world?”

Billy looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

A sad man clutching his head | Source: Pexels

A sad man clutching his head | Source: Pexels

I shook my head. “I’m not a servant, Billy. And I’m sure as hell not your mother.”

Silence. Then, finally, he muttered, “I get it.”

“Do you?” I asked.

He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yeah. I do.”

A tired man rubbing his temples | Source: Pexels

A tired man rubbing his temples | Source: Pexels

I watched him for a long moment, letting his words settle. Then I turned back to the sink. “Good,” I said, rinsing off my hands. “Because I meant it, Billy. If you ever put your mother’s vacation over my basic needs again, you’d better learn how to start a fire with those rocks.”

Billy sulked for the rest of the evening.

An angry man in a hoodie | Source: Pexels

An angry man in a hoodie | Source: Pexels

He barely touched his dinner. He didn’t turn on the TV. He sat on the couch, arms crossed, staring at the wall like it had personally betrayed him. Every now and then, he sighed loudly, like I was supposed to feel bad for him.

I didn’t.

For once, he was the one uncomfortable. He was the one who had to sit with the weight of his own choices. And I was perfectly fine letting him stew in it.

A woman reading a book on a couch | Source: Pexels

A woman reading a book on a couch | Source: Pexels

The next morning, something strange happened.

Billy’s alarm went off earlier than usual. Instead of hitting snooze five times, he actually got up. He got dressed quickly and left without a word.

I didn’t ask where he was going. I just waited.

That evening, when he came home, I heard it before I saw it—the unmistakable sound of a large box being dragged through the doorway.

A large box in the doorway | Source: Midjourney

A large box in the doorway | Source: Midjourney

I turned around and there it was. A brand-new washing machine.

Billy didn’t say anything. He just set it up, plugging in hoses, checking the settings. No complaints. No excuses. Just quiet determination.

When he finished, he finally looked up. His face was sheepish, his voice low.

“I get it now.”

A sorry man covering his face | Source: Pexels

A sorry man covering his face | Source: Pexels

I watched him for a moment, then nodded. “Good.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh… should’ve listened to you sooner.”

“Yeah,” I said, crossing my arms. “You should have.”

He swallowed, nodded again, then grabbed his phone and walked away without argument or justification. Just acceptance. And honestly? That was enough.

A satisfied smiling woman | Source: Pexels

A satisfied smiling woman | Source: Pexels

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

Resting on your left side has a positive effect on your brain, digestive system and glymphatic function

The position we choose to sleep can have a profound impact on our overall health, and resting on the left side is particularly beneficial. Although many overlook the importance of sleeping posture, studies suggest that sleeping on the left side offers notable benefits, particularly for brain health, digestive function, and the glymphatic system.

First and foremost, sleeping on the left side is beneficial for brain health. This posture improves the brain’s ability to eliminate waste products through the glymphatic system, which is essential for eliminating toxins and metabolic byproducts. Efficient waste disposal during sleep can reduce the risk of developing neurological diseases such as Alzheimer’s and dementia.

In addition, this sleeping position is beneficial for digestive health. Since the stomach and pancreas are located on the left side of the body, sleeping on this side supports the natural flow of digestive juices and enzymes. This can improve digestion and help prevent problems such as acid reflux and heartburn. In addition, sleeping on the left side can relieve the symptoms of digestive disorders such as irritable bowel syndrome (IBS).

In addition to brain and digestive health, sleeping on your left side can also improve circulation and reduce snoring. By relieving pressure on the major blood vessels, this position promotes better blood flow throughout the body, which is beneficial for cardiovascular health and can reduce the risk of high blood pressure and stroke. Additionally, keeping the airway open while sleeping on your left side can reduce the likelihood of snoring, resulting in more restful sleep for both the sleeper and their partner

While the benefits of sleeping on your left side are obvious, choosing a sleeping position should take individual comfort and preferences into account. If sleeping on your left side is uncomfortable or inconvenient for some, that’s perfectly acceptable. The key is to find a sleeping position that ensures good, uninterrupted rest.

In summary, sleeping on your left side may provide numerous health benefits, including improved brain function, improved digestion, and better circulation. By aiding waste disposal, supporting digestion, and promoting cardiovascular health, this sleeping position could lead to a more refreshing and healthy sleep experience. Next time you settle into bed, try sleeping on your left side, it could be a step toward a healthier, more restful night’s sleep.

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