I've been refusing to use this blog to bitch about my minor little problems with my lovely wife. However, she encouraged me to post this little problem on here.
My wife loves... chaos.
Not the good chaos where you have nothing to lose so you just kick back and enjoy people freaking out and things getting damaged.
She loves the chaos where you walk in the house and it looks like it just endured a mortar attack. Her theory is that it encourages creativity. I won't go into details about the countless arguments we've had regarding this topic, but I'll put it this way; everything I own can be packed in one large suitcase. Everything she owns can be packed in - give or take - a 5 ton truck.
Regardless of swimming against the current, I've managed to keep the house in a "relatively" neat order. Audrey compromised as well and helps out when possible.
Anyway, I woke up this morning and I found a trail of clothes leading from the bedroom to the bathroom. Typically, that sort of imagery sparks a bit of sexual excitement into the air, but there was no woman at the end of the trail.... just underwear.
And she wonders why I go a bit insane from time to time.
