My husband is cleaner than I am. 

Yes, he is an Eagle Scout but his mother is also apparently some kind of housekeeping nazi.  When we first married, he mopped the floor then took my car to be cleaned and one of our neighbors came over to ask if we were moving.  His idea of mopping consists of moving every stick of furniture out of the room before getting the mop wet.  When he’s lazy, he will mop around chair legs but as a rule, he will put the chairs in the garage.  Hence my nosy neighbor’s question. 

Once, he was in the shower and the Princess was sound asleep.  I popped my head in the bathroom and gave him sexy eyes and offers through the shower door.  I waited around in the bedroom for a while before I went back into the bathroom and found him with a bristle brush in the shower scrubbing away instead of getting busy with me.  Idiot.

Despite this, he is NOT neat.  Clean?  Yes.  Hoarder?  Yes again.  When we married, he actually brought ten years worth of magazines to my house.  I pointed to the recycling bin and walked back inside.  Another time, he received via UPS a new printer for his job.  (He works for the Feds.)  However, he took a new job the following week – still for the Feds but in a different division.  One Y E A R later, the box was still sitting in my bedroom floor in a corner.  I told him if he didn’t get that damn printer out, then I was going to sell it on ebay.  Astounded that I would “steal” from the U. S. government, he told me he would find a home for the printer.  In typical bureaucratic nonsense, the printer couldn’t possibly be used in the new department.  And because it was “issued to” my husband, it couldn’t possibly be returned to the old department.  So it moved to the garage for a while.  I found it in the corner of a closet today – 3 years later – and took it to Goodwill.  Oh. Yes. I. Did.  Your tax money at work, people.

Me?  I’m neat but not necessarily clean.  No junk laying around, but the floor is filthy.  “Galloping horse theory” as my Nana would say.  “Can you see it from a galloping horse?  No?  Then it ain’t there.”  Ha.

 

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