Perm Press

Michael left for England yesterday and as a parting gesture, I took it upon myself to wash and fold his entire wardrobe. As one would expect from any indication of my previous forays into the world of housekeeping- I shrunk everything. I shrunk his t-shirts, polo shirts, shorts, socks, underwear, jeans, everything. I even managed to shrink his football kit- synthetic material that has been washed and dried hundreds of times. How I accomplished that- I do not know.

Luckily, I have a very kind and loving boyfriend who didn't admonish me. He simply gave me a "you're a little naughty" look and told me that I'm not allowed near his laundry anymore. 

That's fine with me.

Although, for one fleeting moment, the absurd thought crossed my mind that "maybe I wont, one day, be as good a wife as I thought." Then of course, I came to my senses and realized that a good housekeeper is not the kind of wife I was brought up to be- or have any desire TO be. And the reason I didn't get in trouble with Michael- is because my little disaster comes with the territory. It's what he bargained for. And I'm happy to let myself believe that he may even find it endearing (he has yet to tell me this himself, though...)

I'm a mess maker. I splatter the stove (and once in a while the walls) when I make sauces or soups. I leave trails behind me wherever I go (in case I get lost), I only wear black because I mess up colors, I break at least one item every time I do the dishes, I can't make my bed to save my life, and I have never followed a recipe. I dribble wine on table cloths when I pour, I miss the garbage can quite often, and I sometimes forget to brush my teeth before bed. There, I admitted it. 

But I wouldn't be me if I didn't make messes- if I didn't live a bit recklessly. 

I live my life with passion. I cook with passion, I (attempt to) clean with passion, I go into everything I do with a distinct level of enthusiasm- reckless abandon, some may call it- I know I do. I don't sweat the small stuff because there are too many major things to do. And therefore- I make messes. 

Luckily, I have surrounded myself with fabulous and extraordinary people- family and friends- who love me despite my flaws and once in a while, even pick up after me...or remind me to pick up after myself. I'm learning. And when I remember to brush- I even floss too.

Then there's Michael- who has ceaselessly cleaned the kitchen after my catastrophes, uncluttered my clutter, and ordered my disorder. And even though he now must buy an entire new wardrobe, he loves me anyway. And in return- I love him back with reckless abandon.