Long Hollow

Tom couldn't find his cash yesterday morning. He checked every flat surface he has ever dumped his pocket-contents onto… the kitchen counter/bar, his bedroom dresser, the bathroom counter, the dining room table, the church pew by the front door…

He searched the pockets of dirty pants in the hamper… dug through the red duffle bag he carries to work…

When I saw that the mental trail he was following had turned cold, I told him, I have some money – just grab it from my purse.

Later, I found his cash wadded up in the pocket of jeans he had left in the television room downstairs, draped across some old movie seats. Right in the middle of the room!

That's not all. In front of the couch I found these…

(Now mind you, these belong to a man who would toss the kids' shoes out the front door if they left them lying around too long in the living areas.)

But I didn't growl or hiss about his stuff being scattered around the house like that, even though it drives me crazy. I've learned to fight that "I'll just clean it up myself!" impulse, for one thing.

I've also realized that one day he might not be here to leave his dirty socks lying on the floor in front of the couch – I've already come close to losing him too many times to car wrecks and heart issues – and if that day ever comes, I'll be longing to find his shoes, socks, or even pants lying around out of place. (Is anyone else out there a worst-case scenario kind of person like me?)

And last but not least, this is the other reason I bit back any complaints that tried to bubble up…

What a sweetheart! While I was off soaking up Galveston sunshine, gabbing with Ann and hitting thrift stores, he used his bachelor weekend to start tiling the wall behind our kitchen sink. The lack of a backsplash there has been driving me more crazy than forgotten dirty socks on the floor ever could.

Yep… he's a keeper, alright!

Finding these freshly-baked cyclops cookies on the counter when I got home Sunday evening didn't hurt my opinion of him, either… YUM!