My last post has brought more comments than I can handle at the end of the post. This is so much fun.
Here's the deal: we are both pack rats. I'm the good one, of course; he's the bad one, of course. That's a given. I collect good stuff like yarn and books and needles and more yarn and more books and patterns, etc, etc. He collects the weird and the wacky.
We have reached a crisis point in our chaotic lives. Basically his son, who I think is the best son in the universe, don't even try to convince me otherwise (he's always on my side!) told him that he was out of control. Tee Hee. So now the Hubbo is obsessively attacking his piles of junk (whoops, I mean stuff) and tossing and organizing and other good things.
Here's the problem: He's upped the ante in neatness, so now I feel this urge to top him of course. We are very competitive, especially in Scrabble. So now I need to organize my beautiful stuff (junk, no never junk. Just beautiful stuff).
It's hilarious. And I have to win. why? Because I'm the good one, and he's the bad one. Of course you agree with me. How could you not? ;-)
So I did my share of pick up today: I organized the living room coffee table, otherwise known as a flat surface with needles, books, patterns, yarns, tape measure, coaster for the cup of tea all on top of it. And our coffee table is really a pretty piano bench that he found at a house sale. (Yeah, as much as I hate to admit it, he really does find lovely stuff.) So you know that it is not particularly large. And organize it I did. In nice neat piles. And tossed the umpteen pieces of yarn and scrap paper with hash marks on them and other detritus of my knitting habit. And now it looks quite neat.
Needless to say, I'm totally exhausted by that bit of straightening out and need to eat some muffins that I just made.
So to answer all the latest comments, here goes:
Ria - you have the essence of it. We have the good junk; the guys have the bad junk. I'm with you except in the case of country music. I'd prefer Beethoven, but the Hubbo falls asleep at concerts and opera. Still, he is THE Hubbo, and almost perfect. I, of course, am perfect. And I know you agree with me.
Pam the Yarn Goddess - But if he's not a pack rat, and you are, what do you squabble about? One can have a perfectly good rant at one's other half if he's collecting bicycle tires. (mine doesn't). But here you have this perfection of a man, and how do you let him know that you're the good one and he's not? Tell him to mend his wicked ways.
Carolyn - Yes my stuff is my friend and I like to have my friends around me, although as much as I hate to admit it, I'm having too much company lately. But now that the piano bench, aka the coffee table, is neat, and some of the friends have gone home, I feel more secure. And when are you going to litter up your studio, hm? Tell you what, I'll send you some stuff, any stuff. Remember: A neat house is not a happy house.
Ria - there is nothing that I can say except to giggle. Guy engineers fall into 2 groups: those without any sense of humor at all, and those with an enormous sense of mischief. I think our guys are in the mischief group!
Is this not fun? I love to pick on the Hubbo. Don't feel too sorry for him; he gives it right back. Tee hee.