Okay, so. Those of you who’re FB friends (Pretty much ALL of you) have seen the pic I posted of the towels & Dawg blankets stacked on The Boy’s bathroom counter. This is currently a two week old experiment in will-power to see which one of us caves first. Odds are on me and you guys are probably right. This growing stack is putting my OCD into overdrive and before things get too much farther along, I will either mention to The Boy-through gritted teeth-that when I place items on his counter, I’m not doing it for decorative purposes but as a signal that I expect him to PUT IT AWAY. I do not nag, beg, cajole, or yell. I prefer instead to use life experiences as a teaching tool. Much easier on my nerves and infinitely much more effective. Case in point: Early in our relationship, TWH was a Sock Leaver. He left his socks wherever he happened to be sitting when he took them off. For DAYS, if I let him. Not to say that I am without any faults. I am a Shoe Leaver. I leave shoes in a pile by my back door & all over my bedroom. I have at least confined my mess to two spots. Anyways, I began by picking up the discarded socks and taking them to the hamper and asking TWH to “Please try to pick up your socks, Honey”. I did this for YEARS. One day, I came upon a pair of socks in the floor, AGAIN. I bent over to pick them up when I suddenly decided “Shit on this” and I took my “widdle foot” and KICKED THEM UNDER THE SOFA. Yep, shoved them right on under there. I kept doing this every time I found a pair. We had socks under the bed, under the sofa, hell, I think I even kicked a pair up under the China Cabinet once. Eventually, (but before he really caught on) TWH began running low on socks. “Baby, did you wash me some socks??” he would ask. “I washed whatever was in the hamper” I would answer with absolute innocence. One day, The Boy rolled a toy under our bed. He crawled under to get it and yelled out “Why’s there a bunch of socks under here??” TWH got down to take a look and Lo and Behold….Sock-a-Palooza. Then the penny dropped. TWH came to me, several pairs of socks in hand, and asked “Why are all my SOCKS under the BED?” I looked at him and said “Oh, they’re not ALL under the bed. Some of them are under the sofa.” I explained to him that I was sick to death of finding his socks all over the house, that I had asked him NUMEROUS TIMES to pick the damned things up & since that wasn’t working, I’d decided to try a new tactic. He bitched & complained for awhile. Mostly about having to find & retrieve all his socks. The lesson, however , was learned & now ALL socks go to the hamper. Now, The Boy may be a tougher nut to crack, but crack him I will. I think it may involve several tubes of cheap lipstick and a full-mirror note but he’s gonna get the message… No Son, you’re not supposed to work AROUND this!!
On a side note: my Shoe Leaving is addressed a couple of times a week when we pick up to run the Roomba. (Also known as the “You Mother Fucker” Roomba.) Why it’s called that is a story for another day.