Yesterday, I needed a rubber band. Knowing I’d stashed a few in our silverware drawer, I reached for them and found ... nothing. “Why do you hate rubber bands??” I texted my husband.
He walked in from the other room. “I don’t want the silverware drawer to become a junk repository,” he told me.
“This kitchen looks like a hurricane hit it, and that’s what you get fussy about?” I asked.
He fixed me with that look. “You don’t have a rubber band to stand on.”
He’s right. When it comes to ridiculous little details that Must Be Just So in the middle of the chaos that is our home, well, I’m the duchess of dork. Here’s what I mean:
I may not care if there are rubber bands in the silverware drawer, but woe betide you if you don’t stack the flatware as noted above. (This is one my husband came up with, and it’s a testament to the strength of our shared neuroses that I immediately adopted it.) Oh no! I just noticed the knives are facing different ways! Be right back ...
Our dresser is a mass of reading material, but I don’t mind it if the smaller pieces are stacked on top of the larger pieces. My husband, on the other hand, doesn’t even notice if a big floppy magazine is on top of a little paperback. THE PAIN! MY EYES!
There are an estimated 20 toys in the living room that beep, sing, or light up (sometimes all three). None of this bothers me. But I can’t stand the sound of commercials on the TV, and mute them immediately.
I cannot sleep in a bed that hasn’t been made, including the sheets facing the right way. Sometimes I make the bed just so I can get into it.
Toilet paper must go over the top. Funny thing is, it used to have to go the other way (I liked seeing the whole roll with the end making a surprise appearance from beneath) until I had a cleaning lady who made little hotel-style triangles on the top of the roll. She changed my life, man.
I’ll accept wearing unmatched socks only if they’re the same type of sock. They may not look the same, but they must feel the same. Example:
My fingernails are allowed to be raggedy. My toenails are not.
I like to hang the diaper bag on the front doorknob so I can fill it with stuff easily as I stroll past. My husband cannot abide ANYTHING hung on ANY doorknob, which means he’ll rip the drying bibs off the kitchen cabinets and neatly pile them toss them in a pile on the kitchen table.
When I’m done with the shower, I have to hang the rug on the side of the tub, the rubber mat gets stuck on the wall so it doesn’t mildew, and the curtain has to be pulled straight so the tree looks like it’s growing out of the mat. Please note: the rest of the bathroom is a TSW -- total stinking wreck.
Do you cherish tiny touches of organization in a sea of disorder? What’s your teeny-weeny moment of Zen? Tell us in the comments!