So in my very sweet and loving voice, I say, "Honey, can you please move your stuff off my dresser and put it with your stuff?" He says that he will but was just feeling kinda lazy and will move it later. Later to me meant by the time I got off work the following evening...later has turned into 3 weeks. I kindly remove his stuff and put it on his side, but somehow, more junk ended up on my side. You have got to be kidding me! I asked him what was the big deal in him putting his stuff on my side. He said it was just closer. I wasn't asking him to move it out of state, just across the freaking room. Why are there empty medicine bottles, old appointment cards after he's gone to the doctor and other stuff just taking up mass? He says, "Oh you can just throw that stuff away." No honey, YOU CAN JUST THROW THAT STUFF AWAY.
I feel like Old MacDonald. Except for a quack quack here, He's got stuff here, stuff there, here a stuff, there a stuff, everywhere stuff stuff. It doesn't just stop at the bedroom either. There is stuff on the couch and I can see if it was all nice and neat - Ba humbug! You ever seen someone who is wearing spandex and their behind is way too big for it - that's how I feel about hubby's stuff ----it's all a hot mess. Well he keeps telling me that he is going to either move it or throw it away. I don't even ask anymore, I'm tired. I just look at it and shake my head. Then he'll say, "I know, I know." All I know is that a change will come, but if I'm expecting it today, it just ain't gonna happen.