Boy Dirt, And Other Thoughts
Mood:  happy
I'm still in residence in the Kentucky house, and yesterday Ted rejoined me. He's been here almost twenty-four hours, and already the house is starting to take on that Lived In Look. Not that Ted is unclean in any way -- in fact, for most of our marriage he was much cleaner than me. But now that the kids are out of the house and there's no one else to blame it on, I've become the clutter police. And Ted leaves a trail of clutter in his wake.

Let me show you: There's his tee shirt hanging over the back of his kitchen chair. His computer case is sitting on the floor beside the desk. His note papers are piled on top of my printer. Three pairs of his shoes (three!), some with socks stuffed in them, are sitting in the bedroom floor. His honey jar sits on the counter beside the coffee pot, along with the dirty spoon and coffee cup - literally right on top of the dishwasher. His motorcycle magazine is on the floor beside the toilet. His toothbrush and comb are sitting beside the sink instead of in the drawer where I put them. And there are toothpaste speckles on the faucet.

I call it Boy Dirt. It's not dirt like Charlie Brown's friend Pigpen leaves in his wake, but it's still evidence that Ted has passed this way. And you know what? I've missed him so much these past two weeks, I'm happy to have the Boy Dirt cluttering my house!

Within two hours of arriving home Ted had both cars fixed! (See my earlier post to read about my frustration with the cars.) And so far today he has fixed the gas grill, cleaned out the pile of dead leaves beneath the shrubs, worked on one of the motorcycles, and is now recharging the A/C in the car I drive. He's amazing, he really is.

So what's a little Boy Dirt?