Crown and I are alike in many, many ways. But of course, we are also individuals. Each with his or her own quirks, likes, dislikes. Neuroses.
Okay, fine. I'm the one with the neuroses. As much as it pains me to admit it, Crown is pretty freakin' neuroses free. This is one of our major differences.
If you've been reading for a while, or know me at all, you'll know that I'm a clean person. A tidy person. I've posted before about my obsessive compulsive need to have things orderly and scrubbed.
Crown is a decently tidy guy, as guys go. I think it's safe to assume that I could not have loved him this much, let alone committed to him for life, if he weren't. I am seriously that much of a freak. But the differences in our level of orderliness is evident in many ways. Especially around the house.
If you were to take a good look at our bedside tables, for example, you'd see that mine is tidy, books piled neatly and at right angles to the corners, always in the same position, just below the alarm clock and kitty corner to the lamp. His, on the other hand will have book askew, possibly even (gasp!) upside down and backwards, crumpled receipts from God knows when tossed about amongst some loose change and a flattened pack of gum.
Likewise, the floor on my side of the room will be tidy, perhaps a yet to be unpacked shopping bag and my neatly stacked pile of mail. His? Balled up socks, slippers kicked off randomly and a tangle of yesterday's clothes.
Because we've learned, for the most part, to live with and occasionally even love, each other's differences, we more often than not, leave each other alone about them. Once a week, I clean up all the stuff, and by the end of the day, his piles have reappeared and I leave them alone until next week's cleaning session.
I was in the master bathroom the other day, when I was struck by the perfect illustration of the difference between Crown's kind of tidy, and mine. Can you tell which towel belongs to whom?
Okay, how about here? Just a few days later, after my weekly clean and tidy?
I had a good chuckle when I realized that our bath towels, like our bedside tables, are so representative of us. And then I had a little sigh and realized how lucky I am that he actually hangs his up at all. Thank the Lord for small miracles and for my sort of tidy guy.