Differences of opinion are the stuff that relationships are built on. What else makes a couple sit down and bicker about something for three hours, and then have make-up cuddling after to re-stitch the seams of the relationship? In contrast, agreeing on everything never make you engage each other deeply and thoroughly.
The half of the room that is on my side of the bed is neat, proper, trimmed and clean. The half of the room that is on Mark’s side has some of his clothes lying in the chair there, and there’s some mechanical thing propped up against the closet, and there are two tool-boxes next to the mechanical thing. I make the point to move the clothes to the wash-bin, so that one day he will learn. But I don’t touch his tools because he just complains if I do.
In the lounge downstairs, where he spends most of his leisure hours while watching the telly or texting his friends or playing on the Xbox, there are cans and crisps on the table. There are textbooks under the sofa, and there are clothes in the armchair. I usually burst in there to at least rescue the clothes sometimes, but when I look again a day later, there’s more T-shirts or jumpers there.
In the ever shifting sands of our relationship, we have a sort of nudging unspoken agreement that the lounge is his and the office is mine. But sometimes, sometimes it drives me up the wall and I become the nagging spouse against his laddish disorder.
I love my man to death, but I wish he would pick up his things sometimes, and not clutter everything!