Some men never clean up messes, others hire cleaning ladies. I complete the laundering cycle, and then fail to fold, hang and store away clean laundry.
Exhibit A: A 5 day marathon of clean clothes piling up outside my bathroom.
I am not the cleanest of men in the world. My sister Cait would describe me as “leading the rebellion against domestication.”
While the picture to the right is sloppy, and there is no excuse for why it exists in my hallway for 5 days, it has become part of the skyline when I am looking outside my room. It’s the Trump Tower of Chicago’s skyline; it is new, you don’t remember it being built and if it were gone you would still recognize Chicago.
I will be cleaning this up today but I just thought I would take a moment and appreciate the fact that while some men would have the most rotten, horrible stack of garbage and stained dirty laundry filth piled feet high in the middle of their room, I have a pile of clean, daisy smelling laundry in my hall way. Which, next to the scented candles, is the second best smelling thing in our apartment.
PS: Ben and I are still trying to find the pure raunch of a smell in our apartment.