My "No-Nagging Project" gets a B+.
I did great until Sunday morning, when my son ran into the living room with forks in his hands. As flirtatiously as I could ('cause it's not really nagging if you're smiling, right?), I said to Tom, "Hmm... How did Peter get those forks? Someone must have left the silver chest open."
By Monday night, I was downright pushy. I'd spent the past 24 hours clearing out the living room for painters to come (no not furniture-- but all the stuff like lamps and pictures and blasted knick-knacks), then entertaining a toddler away from home all day while they worked. That evening, as I worked to get the room back in order, Tom lay on the couch with the remote control. "Uh, could I get a little help here?" I said. He looked a little irritated and asked, "What do you want me to do?" And I told him.
All things considered, though, I think I did a good job. I didn't even tell Tom what I was doing (or not doing, I should say), since that would have made it more... I don't know... feel more like a chore and less like an exciting experiment?
I'm going to try again this week.