Do you ever wondered what happened to Messy Marvin? I married him. No matter what Jim touches, he leaves a mess. He will deny this if you ask him, so don't bother trying. For example, if he decides to get a snack out of the cabinet, 9 times out of 10, he'll leave the cabinet door open. I'll come into the kitchen in the morning and see the cabinet gaping open and think, "Now why didn't he just shut that?" I ESPECIALLY like when he finishes the box of whatever, granola bars, crackers, etc., and leaves the empty box on the kitchen table AND the cabinet open. This frustrates me to no end. Why can't he throw away the empty box? Okay, at this point he would probably say that he left it on the table so that I would see that he finished said item, and that we'd need to put it on the grocery list. And I could EASILY come back with the remark, "Well, get out a piece of paper and pen, and START said grocery list."
When Jim makes his coffee in the morning, it's a whole big fiasco. Jim prides himself on being a coffee aficionado, and he grinds the coffee beans ONE CUP AT A TIME. (He uses an Aero Press, and makes his coffee one cup at a time.) He used to have a different coffee grinder that spewed the grounds all over the counter, sink, and floor, and made me want to cry daily. He has since replaced it with a different one - it was cheaper than filing for divorce.
Here's a photo of what the old grinder used to leave behind:
Do you feel my pain? I know Jim tried his best, but it was inevitable that those coffee grounds would end up on the floor, among other places.
Believe me, I am certainly not the type of person who is a neat freak. I just like things in their places and try to keep things fairly clean. But when my husband goes up into the bedroom/bathroom area, he leaves evidence that he was there by the rug:
Or any drawers he might have been in:
So the other day I'm sitting on the pot - "bare" with me here, folks, and I hear/feel Jim come up into the bedroom. Living in a trailer, you know when people are moving around, especially if they are over 200+ pounds. Now, our bathroom is QUITESMALL, about 2' x 3' if we're lucky. For some reason, it always seems that Jim likes to move around while I'm sitting on the pot. I feel like I'm on one of those enclosed rides at Disneyland where your seat moves up and down while your watching a scene. I'm not watching a movie, but I'm trying to read! I get sick easily. Anyway, I hear clomp, clomp, clomp, as Jim comes up the two stairs into the bedroom, trounces around for something, and then leaves. I finish my business, turn to open the door, and can only open the door about 6 inches. What the heck? See the blanket that's on the edge of our bed?
Somehow, some way, it is now lying on the floor in a pile right in front of the bathroom door. So the blanket stopped the door from opening further. I was able to pull it out of the way with my outstretched arm (thankfully, because Jim would NEVER hear me calling for help with the TV blasting). I shook the blanket out, refolded it, and put it back on the bed. Then I went into the living room and said to Jim, "Why was the blanket from the bed on the floor by the bathroom door?"
Jim's head came up, and it took a moment for his eyes to focus on me. "Huh?" was his response.
I repeated my question.
His reply? "I have no idea."
Messy Marvin strikes again.
(By the way, you may have recognized the Messy Marvin in the commercial. That is Peter Billingsley. He went on to become famous in the movie, "A Christmas Story".)
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