Myself and the boy went comic shopping on Saturday and came home to find the missus sorting out her wardrobes (note the plural). Tops, trousers, T-shirts and shoes filled three recycling bags and she’d even systematically sorted out her cupboards with those hanging down linen shelve things.
I considered this a moral victory because one of my major influences in our home has been my need for organisation and cleanliness. The boy affectionately refers to this as my obsessive compulsive disorder (unless I’m buying him comics when he says it’s an important influence on the smooth running of the household) but he has unwittingly followed my lead and keeps his comics and DVDs in order. Of course it’s not the alphabetical system I use for such things but I do smile and nod approvingly when I see him label magazine boxes and ensure his DVDs are neatly stacked. For some parents it’s sport but I feel great pride when I see a nicely labelled filing system and possessions in a familiar and easy-to-understand order.
The wife, of course, had previously resisted my civilising influence and continued to ignore basic suggestions to aid domestic organisation. Her bag tree (a hat stand brimming with bags of every shape and colour) remains an utter shambles and the less said about her CD collection before I got my hands on it the better!
So I gave myself a slap on the back when I arrived home to her newly organised wardrobes and the full recycling bags. Then the following day she went out and started buying more clothes. She’s got room in her wardrobes now you see...
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