When I think about the dream house I'd like to have someday, I'm not picky.
It doesn't have to be in a particular neighborhood or have a certain square footage. No marble floors necessary. Deep down inside I'm not a fancy person.
I just want a house that looks like nobody lives there.
When I look at a magazine, I don't salivate over the furniture or fixtures. I am envious of how perfect everything is. How there is no clutter or piles.
Is it too much to ask? Yes I realize that this would make me the creepy guy and not the Julia Roberts character in "Sleeping with the Enemy." It brings me such great feelings of joy to open up a cabinet and see like items grouped together and all the labels facing me like they are looking at me.
Sometimes I will just walk through my house and open up a cabinet or drawer just so I can admire it. Sometimes I will lay in bed sleepless, wondering if someone else emptied the dishwasher (ha!) and put the wrong utensils in the wrong drawers.
The Pastor came home from his trip and claimed to be distressed because all of his piles had been put away. He said "You are not the only person who lives here."
No, I may not be. But I'm the boss.
good thing about me: I'm really skilled at organizing.
thankful for: a date with the Pastor