Adventures in adulthood

I am doing something this morning that I would have never dreamed of doing either when I was young or even older but before I got married. I am tidying.

Tidying is not something I think of as one of man's higher purposes. It's really hard to think of any objective reason why it is better if things are tidy rather than untidy. It's not that I dislike a tidy house, it's just so much harder than having an untidy one. This is a fundamental force in the universe, the tendency toward entropy, the total disorganization of matter. Anything other than entropy requires energy. Tidying, which requires putting things in some sort of order, is just like applying atomic forces and molecular bonds. No, really.

So what is the driving energy behind this burst of activity? It's the energy created when a messy person lives with a neat one. The closest natural parallel that I can think of for this energy is lightning. Clouds roll around, minding their own business, and then for no apparent reason, some energy builds up beyond the reach of whatever's containing it, a balance is tipped and a huge charge of electricity is released. This is very much like living with someone who is just plain tired of the mess. They can contain themselves for weeks, even months, and then something tips the balance and all of the stored up irritation is released. Yes, kind of like getting struck by lightning but  wouldn't make as good a Youtube video.

So the purpose of this morning's tidying is simply to avoid this occurrence. The goal is clear- there should be nothing anywhere in the house about which I might be asked the innocuous-sounding question, "What's going on with _______?," into which blank you could, at least before I started, inserted "this pile of magazines, these coupons, the jar of nuts, the computer mouse, the ant traps, the maple sugar, the paper plates, these books, the pile on the dining room table, the bike trainer, the old Tivo, and so on." It's a lot of stuff, and some is trickier to remove than others, especially since the usual repository for excess stuff is my desk, which not only has a horizontal surface of finite proportions, but is also the resting place of the house's printer, which means it must remain accessible. Even worse is "Can I do something with_____?" Note the subtlety- "I", not "you".

So part of my plan to stay happily married requires forcing myself to think like a neat person and lap the house, searching for potential irritants, and then removing them. It's an interesting exercise to put yourself in someone else's head, but I'm not doing it because it's interesting. I'm doing it because it brings happiness to others, but also for my own good.