Husband cleaning

Husband cleaning. Here to highlight the differences between the sexes. Today I got lucky/strategically planned and got synchronized naps. (It’s a joy and a gift I don’t take for granted. Thank you, Lord.) So, since my house is always in a special state of disarray after the weekend, I have been frantically trying to straighten it. I grabbed one of my dirty shirts out of one of the numerous toy bins I’ve placed around the house (in my quest for mess containment), thinking the Baby Monster put it in there. But, underneath the shirt was a sippy cup. And Jack’s cowboy boots. And one of my flip flops. Ah. Husband cleaning. 

I’m very grateful for my husband (I literally could not dream up a better one. Thank you, Lord) and his spirit of helpfulness. But he has this overwhelming aversion to clutter (unless it’s on his nightstand) that causes him to go on straightening sprees where he, obviously, just puts anything in his path into a laundry basket (just because it’s on the floor doesn’t mean it’s dirty), toy box or trash can. So, when I clean, it’s clean. But, current circumstances being what they are, no two parts of the house are usually clean at the same time. Now with husband cleaning, everything looks very tidy at first glance. But good luck finding anything, like that favorite bra that’s been missing for two weeks or the toddler’s other shoe. 

But when you do find something, it’s probably a sippy cup of milk in the diaper drawer that’s been there a few too many days. 

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