In my experience, most single folk, male or female, probably don't do much housework unless they're down to the last pair of underwear, the last clean fork, or the last scrap of space on the couch or the dining table. I do housework under pressure: when company's coming over, when the spiderwebs in the corners are gathering dust, when I'm working off anger or an excess of caffeine, or when--as now--I don't want to return from a trip and be faced with a cluttered house musty from being closed up for several days.
So, last night, when I typed a blog post stating that I'd be up for a few hours, I wasn't surprised when the phone rang near 2:00 a.m.
I didn't even say hi, but asked if this was my little brother. Laughing, he said, "Yes, it is," and admitted to having just read my blog. I called him evil, and we hung out on the phone till about 4:00 a.m.
I'm going to be in Tucson in a few days, but that's not an issue; he and I can usually find something to mock, laugh about, or discuss deeply. Not deep issues, just deep discussion. (laugh)