Not my stuff

Do you remember going to a friend's house when you were a youngster and helping her wash the dishes? I do. I remember helping her do her chores and coming home and telling my mother how much fun I had at Candy's house washing dishes. And my mother would respond,

"Why is it you can have fun doing dishes at someone else's house but you complain and mope and do a sloppy job when I ask you to wash the dishes at home?"

"I don't know, but it is fun to clean someone else's house, not my own."

Today Tetsu has the day off. This morning he started in cleaning my kitchen. Cupboards, drawers... Now, I know that I will be happy when I come home and find a new to me kitchen. But I really would like to point out the piles of his books by the futon, the Japanese room closet that holds plastic bags of the stuff he emptied from his car, his clothes stuffed in a cubby that seem to be multiplying.

I can hear Tetsu whistling as he cleans my kitchen. He is having fun. Do you suppose I should just change my attitude and clean up his stuff and pretend this is not my house?