Yesterday afternoon I walked into our bedroom to find Rob had left his wet towel from that morning on the bed.

On MY side of the bed.

And because I hadn’t made the bed yet it was right on top of the sheet where I sleep.

Sometimes I think he has a death wish.

Once I got over the initial desire to smother him with a pillow, I picked it up and chucked it on the washing pile that I had in the corner which consisted of his festy hankies (is there a more vile item in the male accessories range? I think not), and his socks that are riddled with holes because he can’t be bothered to throw them out and quite frankly I don’t care.

Then I glanced over at the chairs that sit in our room. Years ago I used to nag him about how rather than hang his clothes back in his wardrobe, he’d drape them all over the furniture which really pissed me off. After approximately sixteen and a half billion nags he got the message, stopped doing that and did this instead …


Because laying them down neatly on the floor is just a sooooo much better solution to hanging them up and being done with it.

It’s a good thing I am very much in love with him. And that he’s an awesome Dad.

Am I fighting an uphill battle? Do I persist with house training attempt No.8793656383095856464, or let go and let him lay his clothes around our room like mismatched flokati rugs?


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