I couldn’t believe my eyes when my husband, Jake, handed me a carefully printed schedule with the title “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife.” At first, I was too stunned to speak. My heart pounded in disbelief. Was this a joke? But as I glanced up at him, I saw he was completely serious.
I took a deep breath. Instead of exploding with anger, I decided to play along. Oh, Jake had no idea what was coming. If he thought he could teach me how to be a “better wife,” then I was about to give him a lesson he’d never forget.
The Start of the Madness
Jake and I had always had a solid marriage—at least, until Steve entered the picture. Steve was one of those guys who thought he had life all figured out, despite being perpetually single. He had a loud, overconfident way of speaking that made people mistake arrogance for wisdom. And somehow, Jake fell for it.
Jake started bringing home Steve’s “brilliant” insights like they were sacred knowledge.
“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” he casually remarked one evening while I was folding laundry.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, does Steve also say relationships work best when husbands mind their own business?”
But Jake didn’t get the hint. He kept at it.
“Steve thinks women should always look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”
“Great,” I said dryly. “I think men should always be rich and have six-pack abs. Guess we’re both disappointed.”
Still, the comments continued. At first, I thought it was just a phase, but then he started acting differently—judging my choices. He sighed dramatically if I ordered takeout instead of cooking. He raised an eyebrow when I let the laundry pile up because, oh, I don’t know, I had a full-time job to handle.
And then, one night, he took it too far.
The List
Jake walked into the kitchen with a smug smile and a piece of paper in hand. He sat down, unfolded it, and slid it across the table.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice carrying an unfamiliar, condescending tone. “You’re a great wife, Lisa. But there’s always room for improvement.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really? Do tell.”
“Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”
I stared at him, not sure whether to laugh or flip the table. Instead, I glanced at the paper. My jaw nearly hit the floor.
It was a full-blown schedule. According to this ridiculous list, I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a “nutritious gourmet breakfast.” After that, I had an hour of gym time because, apparently, my current body wasn’t up to “wife standards.”
Then, I had a long list of chores: cleaning, laundry, ironing—before heading to my full-time job. And after work? Oh, just a three-course homemade dinner and snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over to hang out.
I gripped the list tightly, wondering if my husband had completely lost his mind.
“This will be great for you, and us,” Jake continued, beaming. “Steve says it’s important to maintain structure, and I think you could benefit from—”
“I could benefit from what?” I interrupted, my voice calm but deadly.
Jake blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… you know, from some guidance. A schedule.”
Oh, he was in for it now.
My Counterattack
I wanted to throw the paper in his face and demand to know if he had a death wish. But instead, I took a deep breath, forced a sweet smile, and nodded.
“You’re absolutely right, Jake,” I said, my voice sugar-coated. “I’m so lucky you made this for me. I’ll start tomorrow.”
His face lit up with relief. Poor fool. He had no idea what was coming.
The next morning, while he was at work, I sat down at my laptop and opened a blank document. At the top, I typed: “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.”
If Jake wanted a perfect wife, he was about to learn that perfection had a price.
I copied everything from his list but added a few little twists.
First, that gym membership he insisted on?
“$1,200 for a personal trainer.”
Because if I was expected to “stay in shape,” I needed professional help, right?
Next, the food. If Jake wanted gourmet breakfasts and home-cooked meals every day, we weren’t making it work on our usual grocery budget.
“$700 per month for organic, free-range groceries.”
And since I was now his personal chef, he’d have to chip in for cooking lessons. Those weren’t cheap.
Then came the biggest point: my job. There was no way I could keep working full-time while managing this absurd schedule.
“$75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary since she will now be a full-time housewife, chef, and personal assistant.”
By the time I finished, the list was a financial nightmare, but it was perfect.
I printed it out, placed it neatly on the kitchen counter, and waited.
Jake’s Realization
That evening, Jake walked in, tossing his keys on the counter. “Hey, babe. What’s this?”
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, just a little list I put together. To help you become the best husband ever.”
He chuckled, assuming I was playing along. But as his eyes scanned the paper, his smile faded. Then, his jaw dropped.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer?! $700 for groceries?! $75,000?! Lisa, what the hell is this?!”
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Well, since you want me to wake up at 5 a.m., cook, clean, and host your friends, I figured we should budget for all of that. Fair, right?”
His face paled as he flipped through the list. “You’re quitting your job?!”
I shrugged. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? I can’t do it all. Something has to give.”
Jake gaped at me, the reality finally sinking in. He looked at the numbers, then at me, then back at the list. His face crumpled with regret.
“I… I didn’t mean…” he stammered. “Lisa, I didn’t realize how ridiculous this was. Steve made it sound so… reasonable. But now I see it’s… oh God, it’s awful.”
I nodded, watching him carefully. “Yes, it is. And if you ever try to ‘fix’ me again, I promise, you’ll be paying a hell of a lot more than what’s on that paper.”
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. “I’m so sorry. I let Steve get into my head. I should have known better.”
“Yes, you should have,” I said. “Now, shall we rip this nonsense up and go back to being equals?”
Jake gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah… let’s do that.”
We tore up the lists together, and for the first time in weeks, we were back on the same team.
Because marriage isn’t about one person being “better.” It’s about being better together.
