Hawaiian House Pets: Husband Edition

Let me just begin by saying I had almost forgotten how disgusting and weird Husband really is. In the year we spent apart, all of the burps and farts and wet PT socks in the kitchen faded from my mind. Within the first week of Husband being home, I quickly remembered. Of all the things that Husband has done in the last few weeks, his "house pet" is by far the worst.

In our apartment, we have two bathrooms. This means I get my own bathroom where I can cover the counters in makeup and hair products without having to worry about Husband messing it all up. While I was busy reveling in the glory of personal space, I neglected to realize how concerned I should be about giving Husband his own space. When I went into Husband's bathroom to collect his towel on laundry day, I looked down to discover the world's biggest spider living on the baseboard.

After bravely snapping a picture, I ran from the room to get Husband so he could kill the beast. When I frantically told him about the monstrous spider living in his bathroom, I was not at all prepared for his response which was, "Oh yeah, I knew it was there. I'm keeping it, like a pet." I'm sure the look on my face was a mixture of disgust and disbelief. Even for Husband, this was a new level of gross and weird.

Obviously I was not about to let Husband keep a "pet" spider in his bathroom. So I grabbed the can of Raid and ventured back into his bathroom. But in the few minutes I was gone, the spider escaped. In an attempt to keep the spider from returning, I sprayed every inch of that baseboard anyway. With Husband's track record, I'm sure I'll walk in to find the spider's dead body on the next laundry day.

Baby Steps

I don't know if I've mentioned it, but husband is going to be home for R&R very shortly. With all of the excitement over our upcoming reunion, I've been spending my time picking out the perfect homecoming outfit and thinking of all the fun things husband and I can do together once he's actually home. In the midst of all my shopping adventures and planning sessions, I almost overlooked a very important detail: my laundry situation.

As you may remember, I have not been the best housekeeper in husband's absence. But with his return fast approaching, I decided I needed to at least begin to consider addressing the issue. This meant that my ban on hangers needed to be lifted. Darn.

So a few days later, I gathered the unused hangers from my closet and walked over to my laundry pile. Looking down at the heap of clothes in front of me, I decided that just gathering the hangers was probably good enough for one day.

So I just set them on top of the clothes pile and went back to planning and shopping.

Eventually (as in many days later), I came back to stare at the pile again. This time, I was feeling a little more productive. In a gesture just short of a miracle, I sorted through the clothes and put all of the shirts onto hangers.

But then I got tired...and bored.
So I neatly (ok, not so neatly) put the shirts, hangers and all, onto the chair in the corner of my room, where they have remained untouched for the last three days.

Even now, as I stare at that pile of shirts across the room, I have absolutely no desire to actually put them in the closet. Who knew breaking this heathen habit was going to take so long? But hey, at least I made a little progress!

Right?

No Hangers Allowed

I'd like to think that I'm a pretty good wife. I cook, I clean, I do laundry. And when husband is home, I do loads and loads of it. After the clothes are washed, I promptly fold and put them away. Since husband deployed, I have developed the terrible habit of living out of my laundry basket. After my clothes are washed, they go into the laundry basket and then straight onto my body. No drawers or hangers required.

And let me tell you people, I love it! No folding, no organizing and everything is exactly where I can find it. If husband was home to witness this atrocious lack of housekeeping skills, he would probably have a heart attack. But since he's not here, I have begun to let my laundry situation get completely out of hand. I have literally lost all motivation to live like a civilized human being. I have officially become a heathen.

How do I know, you may ask? Yesterday, I crawled out of bed to find this mess:

Shocked by my own messiness, I knew I had to do something. However, the thought of dragging out the hangers and putting my entire wardrobe back into the closet where it belongs seemed like pure torture. So I found another, easier solution to my little problem:

I cleared a path to the door. Problem solved.

Well, at least until husband gets home and I have to resume folding clothes like a normal person. Until then, I'm allowing myself the pleasure of living like a heathen. Allowing myself to live this way may prove that I have actually gone off the deep end this time. So, is this a bad idea? Maybe, but I really don't care.