This is going in our record books.

by Katie on February 23, 2012

I have a few “issues,” as Brandon likes to call them. (Let’s be honest, there are way more than “a few,” but that’s all he’s found so far, so we won’t tell him any different.)

Around the house, they are, in no particular order:  bed made, dishes done, no shoes at the door.

Somehow, these three things just make make my day better. Keep my life in order, if you will.

On the rare evening Brandon can talk me into refraining from doing the dishes, there will be dishwater running sometime between 5 and 6am the next day. We could be running ten minutes late to church, with Brandon sitting outside in the running truck, but by golly, that bed will get made before I walk out the door. And it is rare for me to pass through the threshold of our front door without carrying a pair of shoes to our closet.

Now, I don’t see anything wrong with any of these things. But Brandon finds me a little obsessive about them. Which is okay. He’s a little obsessive about the number of drinking glasses we keep in the freezer for his chocolate milk.

I have recently given in, and let Brandon keep one pair of “slippers” under the bench at the door. Baby steps, Folks.

But just a few days ago, I fell behind on my typical, obsessive shoe-gathering at the door. For some reason, I kept leaving the house in a different pair of shoes than what I had last arrived in, and had to do some yard work, and all of this resulted in quite a collection around the front door.

One evening, I was doing the supper dishes (imagine that), and Brandon shouted, “Kaaa-tiee! I need you in here!”

Now, from experience, this could mean anything from, “I need to ask you for a drink of water,” to “I chopped off my big toe,” so when I had finished my rinsing (assuming it was not the toe), I joined him near our entry.

“I just want you to take a good, long, hard look at this,” he said. “And you have to blog it. This is forever going down in our record books. Count how many pairs of shoes are sitting here.”

“I know, I know. It’s ridiculous. All three pair of my boots are there. And my yard shoes,” I admitted, not wanting to look, already turning away.

“That’s not all. Five pair, Katie. FIVE,” he emphasized. And then a wicked grin came across his face…”And how many are mine?”

[A dramatic pause for effect.]

“None, Katie. None. Not a single one. Nada. Zilch. None.” (In case his point was not clear, I suppose.)

So, there you have it. The day Katie left all her normal instincts and impulses behind and left five pair of shoes at the front door. While Brandon had none.

Happy, Husband?

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