Clean

I like things to be clean and neat. Not like Adrian Monk, but in a sensible, non-dusty manner. My husband, while not a dirty person, is also not quite aware of when things are in disarray or a bit stale. So every Monday at 5:30am, as I leave for the 2.5 hour drive to work, I take one last longing look at the pillow placement on the couch, the empty sink, and the swept-with-love floors. I know that nothing will look the same upon my return on Wednesday afternoon. My absence basically means that the husband has a little over two days to, as he calls it, "party in the house," until my return.

During our Tuesday evening phone conversations, the disclaimer usually is, "Um, when you get home, the house won't look exactly how you like it," or "I didn't quite have enough time to straighten things up." Yesterday though, there was no disclaimer. I arrived home and laughed at the "clean" house. For your enjoyment, here's the play-by-play with some pics:

Bedroom: The bed was made with all of the pillows stacked neatly on it. Note that the comforter was put on the wrong side. The outside has a design and is shiny. He didn't notice.

Guest bedroom: It was still very clean, which means he only went in there to iron. The iron was left on (note the red light).

Bathroom: The white rug was folded so he wouldn't get it dirty. He forgot to unfold it. Also, a new roll of toilet paper was placed on top of the toilet. The empty roll continues to make its guest appearance.

Kitchen: The dishes in the dishwasher were clean. The dishes in the sink...well if they were clean, they'd be somewhere else.

He tried. And I appreciate it because I made no attempt to try to clean up anything. Instead, I threw all the pillows on the floor and went to sleep. I'm not cleanin' nothing!