There is one thing about me that I know. I am becoming neater with age, a fact that makes me very happy. For me, I guess it’s a perk to growing-old. Doesn’t quite make up for the gray hairs though.
I was a mess of a child, and if it’s possible, I was worse as a teenager. No stories about when I was in college or the short years thereafter; however, since I’ve had children, I have steadily become neater – less cluttered. Perhaps it’s because my home can only handle so many messy dwellers. One of us needs to man up and clean up!
After many years of FringeMan telling people I specialized in pile management, he finally admitted that now, I was the clean one in our marriage. I was shocked into a happy stupor, or else I would have gotten that statement in writing. I think the words escaped his mouth before his mind realized the full admission of his words.
Friends, it’s true. Every word. I will prove it to you with photos that tell quite a story.
Please take note of my clean dresser top and then notice the reflection in the mirror. That would be FringeMan’s dresser top. I doubt he even knows what’s hiding on it.
Enough said. Moving one to our nightstands…
Now FringeMan’s nightstand.
Brace yourselves people.
It’s not pretty.
I have no words.
During the conversation where he let the words, “Now she’s neater than me” escape from his lips, he looked over to me with squinted eyes and said, “I think she’s just learned how to hide her piles.”
Sneaky of me, huh?
Should I share my secret with him?
It’s called a trash can. I’ve learned, I don’t really need it, despite what I may think.