My husband is a good man. He puts up with A LOT.  He and I are opposite in so many ways.

He is a detail man.  An everything-has-a-place-man. An if-you-put-things-right-back-where-you-found-them-we-wouldn’t-have-this-problem-kind-of-man. I am NOT. I try. But I am more of a free spirit when it comes to organization, especially when it comes to housework. And, of course, my husband is essentially right. (Albeit in a housework-utopian-society-kind-of-way.) But, as for me, there is always SOMETHING that comes up to thwart my efforts.

Let’s go on a journey through 10 minutes of the mess and chaos of my life shall we? One example – a pair of my running shoes that has not yet made it back into the closet. So, theoretically, I should have been able to take them off my feet and toss them into the closet. Oh, I mean, lay them gently into the designated running shoe cubby. Yeah.

So here is what happened instead. I took them off…  At that precise moment, my son yelled dramatically from the other room. I sprint over to him and find that he and his brother are pounding each other over a Light Bright design. I settle the argument and notice hundreds of Light Bright pieces all over the floor. Oh dear. (Dad won’t be amused by that.) So we make a game of it and pick them up. In the middle of that the phone rings. It is my friend reminding me it is my turn to bring snack to soccer. I run down the stairs to see if I even have something that would qualify as a snack. Nope. Put it on the list of things to do. I then notice the laundry is finished. I put a new load in and take the other out and begin folding it. Kids come running downstairs and want a drink. I get them a drink. They spill juice everywhere and I clean it up. I begin emptying the dish washer because I can’t even put the juice cups away due to the overflowing sink with dirty dishes in it. I am halfway through this task when hubby comes home.

So this is what my husband sees: Kitchen a mess. Sticky floor. Laundry strewn everywhere. Light Bright pieces not picked up. (Because they decided to dump them out again while I wasn’t looking.) And then, of course, he tripped over my shoes. Yeah, those shoes. The ones that should have been put away as soon as I took them off my feet.

And then he says…. “Jen. Why don’t you just put these away right when you take them off?”