Slob

Alas, I am a slob.
I’m mostly in denial about it .  But one night, can’t recall why, I asked my wife, “Do you think I’m a slob?”  And she said, “Yes.”
And an Ouch bloomed in my guilty solar plexus.
Of course she’s right.  The mess on my desk is three layers deep.  Stacks of books climb skyward on my night table.  Crabgrass has swallowed my lawn.  My car’s gone unvacuumed since the Clinton presidency.  And my garage?  Don’t ask.
Then again, I know men whose businesses run like stopwatches but who can’t talk to their wives or children.
I know women whose houses are surgically clean but whose marriages are in the toilet.
I know families whose living rooms are always company-ready but who never hug or laugh or cry or play together.
And so on.
Can’t you have both?  Seems you should.  At least that’s what I always told myself.
Then again, maybe not.
For one of the paradoxes of control is that getting control in one part of your life means surrendering it in another.
I’m pretty happy with my marriage and my family relationships.
My desk’s a mess, but my life makes emotional sense.
So maybe it’s time to embrace my Inner Slob.
Or, maybe, think of myself less as a slob than as someone with other priorities.
A famous tv commercial once advised us: “Life is messy.  Clean it up.”
I prefer 
Life is messy.
Get used to it.
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3 responses to “Slob

  • Lisa

    I used to be a compulsive neat freak, due to the way I was raised and always feeling like I was being judged on my housekeeping skills. I’ve managed to overcome most of that. I was always told “her house was so clean, you could eat off the kitchen floor”. Now I say to myself “who wants to eat off the kitchen floor anyway?”. The neat police have never come and arrested me in all these years….

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