"Hi. How's it going?" he asks.
HT's working one of his loooong stretches, made even longer by lots of overtime.
"Well. I was just thinking about divorcing you."
He laughs, "What'd I do?"
For the last three weeks, I have been going through every nook and cranny of this house, getting rid of clutter. Not a drawer or shelve untouched. I've been reading Creating Sacred Space with Feng Shui by Karen Kingston, and as soon as I can get this place cleared out, we'll implement the changes she recommends. It is really sick how much clutter we had, since we just moved into this house in March. Why did we bring it with us? Too tired to sort through it at the time, I guess we just boxed it up and brought it with. Ugh.
The kids are at the ages where we can finally get rid of the mountains of "little kid" stuff. Praise God. I've made two trips to Goodwill already.
Today, I tackled the basement, and found plastic bin, after box, after shoebox, after bag, after drawer, after toolboxes, full of cords. Cords of every variety. Phone, computer, cable, bungee, battery recharger, you name it. No rhyme or reason. All mashed together so it would take less time to drive to the store for a new one than to untangle the damn things.
"Do you really think this is grounds for divorce?"
"I don't think a judge would agree to cords as a reason."
"How 'bout irreconcilable differences?"
He laughs again.
Apparently, he doesn't think I'm serious.