I got in tonight and I needed to get to the basement to get some work done at the computer (including this blog post). I needed to get downstairs fairly quickly because I had some phone calls to make that should ideally happen before it gets too late. But I ran into a snag...
There was messy. Well, maybe messy isn't the right word; you could say, "things weren't in their proper places." I like things in their proper places. That's not always true. For example, things have to be out of their place in order to use them. It's hard to cook dinner if you can't get a pot out and put it on the stove. Eating salad is far more challenging without a plate, fork and even salad that must respectively stay in the cabinet, drawer and refrigerator.
But when something is done being used, it should go back to it's spot so the next time you need to use it, you know just where to go to get it. Also, this plan to put stuff where it's suppose to go makes things much more visually tidy--and I like tidy.
So tonight when I got in, almost everything was put up, but there were little things--little things that called to me in an obsessive compulsive-type of way. So I put everything back just so, in all the spots those things were suppose to be in. Do I sound crazy to you, or is it just me?
The Big Boy Update: I asked my son and daughter what that noise was. His teacher said, "I think it's a helicopter." My son said, "It's a choo choo train, you whore", which caused Kick and me to snap our heads up and look at each other because we both thought he'd said the same thing. Then we realized he was saying, "and horn". We laughed at our mis-hearing adult minds.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: When our sitter, Ezra, came over tonight, my daughter showed her her gymnastics moves. She did jumping jacks and forward rolls. Today was the last day of gymnastics in the main school season. We're debating signing them up over the summer. She does love gymnastics.
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