It’s been a strange couple of weeks, here in Castle Wheaton. Anne was gone for six days, came home for literally twenty-two minutes and left again for another day. When she got home, we saw each other for about an hour, and then I had to go to sleep early to wake up early to fly across the country for two days. When I got back, she had to leave again for Piggy and Pug promotion, and it wasn’t until last night that we finally had an opportunity to make dinner together and catch up on all the stuff we did while we were gone.
“I have been feeling this strong compulsion to clean stuff up,” I told her while we were finishing dinner. “I wonder if it’s some kind of Spring Cleaning impulse that I’ve never noticed before.”
“More like never had before,” she reminded me.
“Okay, that’s fair,” I said.
We ate the empanadas we’d made. They were better than I expected.
“Hey, speaking of that,” she said, “will you come into our bedroom with me for a minute?”
Heckyeahsexytimesdottumblrdotcom I thought. “Sure,” I said.
I have this big pile of sweaters and hoodies at the foot of our bed. I keep meaning to put them away, but my closet is a shitshow and the shelves are a disaster. I have a box on the top shelf where most of my sweaters and scarves live when we aren’t having our three to five weeks of winter in Los Angeles. It is currently … not optimal.
“What’s going on with …” she indicated with her hand, sort of twirling it around like Vanna White, but with a little more distaste, “… this … stuff. Here.”
“Oh, those are all my dumb sweaters. I already put a bunch of them away, and I just need to find some room in the closet to put the rest of them away.”
“Isn’t that what your box is for?”
“Yes, but it’s already full. I must have added sweaters to my life this winter, and now I’m past the critical mass for sweaters.” I shrugged. “But don’t worry, I’m going to put them away tomorrow. I just need to clean up that shelf and get it more organized.”
“You’re going to put them in the bin that’s already full?”
“No, I’m going to put them in the spot next to the box, which is currently a jumble of kilts and horsemasks.”
She looked at me with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.
“…a jumble … of …” she was unable to finish the thought.
“This is who you married,” I said. “You did this on purpose.”