Don't tell Steve

When I read this recently, it reminded me of something I had meant to write about a while ago. If you know anything about us, you know that Steve is neat (exceedingly so) and I'm not as neat (I'm not a total slob, I keep things reasonably clean, but clutter finds me and unlike someone, I don't align things such as furniture or papers on top of furniture at right angles).

So, Steve was out of town for several days in January and I had free reign, baby. I could toss the mail wherever, leave the dishes till morning, pile up the discarded clothing options on the dresser, leave my hairdryer out, and scatter books around the house willy nilly (not to mention eat cookie dough and wine for dinner). Oh, I was just living it up as a free spirit.

And then I dropped Grace off at school one day and discovered that I had, for the first time ever, forgotten to bring her lunch. It might have been because we were rushing around finding coats and shoes at the last minute, and my bag wasn't in the regular place. Turns out all that discipline of keeping things tidy and organized pays off with less chaos. Plus, the mess just made me annoyed at myself when I came home and saw it at the end of a long day, and I had so much picking up to do before a late night airport run to pick Steve up.

The moral: he's right. Again. Don't tell him.