Like any sensible family, we split the housework more or less evenly

Like any sensible family, we split the housework more or less evenly at home. Here’s how it breaks down: One of us handles the laundry, from buying detergent to ironing. The other—me—still has to get the clothes into the hamper, and I’m also responsible for booking the laundry room in the online system.

One of us—me—usually cooks the hot meals on weekdays and weekends alike, and we each handle our own breakfast. There’s one small exception: those little weekend indulgences when, at dawn, one of us slips into the kitchen.

Grilling is a chapter of its own, since I didn’t inherit my father’s way with steaks, and I’m grateful for a spouse who thinks even buying a new propane tank for the grill is fun.

All is well, and we don’t get into little squabbles. Or do we? I’m in charge of decorating—with a few exceptions—which in practice means constant styling and moving things around. This passion is hindered by the zeal of the one in charge of laundry.

The ironing board and iron can sit for days in the middle of the living room; in the hallway you trip over bags ferrying sheets and towels to and fro. Sometimes clean laundry is spread over the furniture so that, at worst, our home looks like a manor where no one lives anymore and everything is shrouded against the ravages of time, dust, and the fading sun.

Just as I’m about to open my mouth and let loose a bout of nagging, I remind myself that everything is, in fact, exactly as it should be.

The beauty of everyday life—which I’d also call balance—doesn’t come (only) from a bouquet tied with your favorite flowers, a cashmere throw that drapes perfectly over the sofa, or a bébé pastry enjoyed with an heirloom silver fork. The beauty of everyday life springs (also) from the fact that things are constantly happening at home whose aesthetics can’t be defined by external criteria. Those things come from the heart.