I Enjoy a Mess, Especially Mine (standard:humor, 899 words)
Author: Godspenman	Added: Apr 30 2018	Views/Reads: 1688/1215	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
You may not like my mess but I certainly enjoy it.

The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and I were in a little bit of a
tussle this past week. 

Normally (whoever said I was normal) I stay away from such activity in
our very humble domicile. Sometimes it is completely unavoidable. This 
was one of those times. 

I was in the study area of our home doing some kind of work when my wife
came in, looked around with both hands on her hips and said, “What is 
all of this mess about?” 

At first, I didn't quite understand what she was talking about. In fact,
I usually don't understand what she's talking about first off. 
Experience has taught me that if I just nod in the affirmative and 
smile the problem will go away. This time it didn't go away. 

“I'm referring to,” she said rather sarcastically, “all of this mess in
this room!” 

The problem I was having at the time was her definition of “mess.” I
have found throughout my married life that we differ on definitions. 

It is true, we use the same words, but those words have different
meanings to her then to me. My wife has the habit of finely defining 
her words to the letter. I, on the other hand, just generalize. 

If you ask her how much money she had in her purse, she would say, “I
have $21.19.” 

If you asked me the same question (eliminate the purse) I would say, “I
have around $20.” 

She is precise whereas I don't care about the exact numbers. 

When she said, “All of this mess in the room,” it had a different
meaning than what I understood it to mean. 

If, for example, one book is slightly out of line with the rest of the
books, the room is a mess. 

I look at my room as “my room,” and I should be able to have it, as I
wanted to be. If I want it to be messy, then I'm going to let it be 
messy. My idea of messy is having my things surrounding me. Nothing is 
more cozy than being surrounded by what my wife calls my “mess.” 

Continuing her conversation, she said, “What are we going to do about
this mess?” 

When she said the word “we” I was confused. I knew I wasn't going to do
anything about what she called the mess in my room and I didn't know if 
she had somebody that was going to help her do something about the mess 
in my room. She just looked at me as though she was expecting a 
response from me. I'm assuming a positive response. 

Stuttering for a few moments as I was trying to collect my thoughts and
when thoughts wander as much as mine do, it is very difficult to get 
them lined up in order. 

I looked at her, then I looked around my room, then I look back at her,
then I look back at my room. For the life of me, I could not see any 
mess. I had no idea what she was talking about. If there were a 
legitimate mess in my room, I would've spotted it. I did not know what 
she was talking about. 

Staring at her and she staring back, she finally said, “We need to clean
up this room!” 

I suppose everybody has a different way of ordering their life. I like
to order my life by having everything spread out in front of me. And, 
for any reason, if I can't find something, it simply means I don't 
really need that something. 

I have known my wife to search all day for one thing, then when she
found it, it was too late to do anything about it. 



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