I don’t know what it is about the year’s end but it always gets me in the mood to do a thorough “clean out”. Cupboards, pantry, closets etc. I’m not sure why but Cowboy dislikes it when the mood strikes me.
Maybe “dislike” isn’t a strong enough word to explain his emotional state. Let’s go with “hates”. Yep, that pretty much sums it up. He hates it when the “clean out” begins.
Morning time-
COWBOY: What’s on your chore list for the day?
ME: I’m cleaning out and organizing closets, cupboards and my event closet.
COWBOY: (Taking off his Cowboy hat to scratch his head) Listen, just leave my stuff alone…please. You always move my things and I like them exactly where I put them.
ME: Why do you always pout about this? You know the “clean out” is coming every year. You should be used to it by now.
COWBOY: Concentrate on your things, not mine. For the record, I don’t know why this needs to happen every year. If you would put things back where you got them from, you wouldn’t need to re-organize so much.
ME: I do put things back! And besides, it’s more about minimizing than re-organizing. Getting rid of our clutter.
COWBOY: Your clutter, not mine. And don’t wash my pillow either.
Don’t wash his pillow? Where did that come from?
ME: Blah, blah, blah.
COWBOY: Yeah, okay Miss Blah, blah blah. Remember what I said.
He leaves and I stick my tongue out at him. Don’t judge. It makes me feel as if I got the last word.
Later that night, I’m washing my face and he’s getting into bed-
COWBOY: Tammy!
ME: Whaaatt?
COWBOY: What did you do to my pillow?
ME: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
COWBOY: Tammy!
ME: Okaayyy! I may have washed it.
COWBOY: *&&!!
The next morning Cowboy is in the kitchen making his coffee-
COWBOY: Tammy!
ME: Whaat?
COWBOY: Come in here.
ME: I don’t want to. I have a feeling you’re upset.
COWBOY: Come here.
ME: Okay.
He’s standing in front of a cabinet with the doors open.
COWBOY: (Pointing inside the cabinet) Where is my coffee cup?
ME: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
COWBOY: Tammy.
ME: I wanted everything to match. So I ordered new coffee cups to match my new plates and bowls.
COWBOY: Tammy. Where is my cup?
ME: I may have gotten rid of it.
COWBOY: Where?
ME: In the box that I’m dropping off at Goodwill.
COWBOY: Umm humm.
ME: It’s just a cup!
Cowboy walks out of the house and I’m thinking to myself “that was easy enough.” He’ll eventually come to like our new cups. Just like I thought he would.
The next morning I head into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. I open the cabinet with the cups and start laughing-
In the middle of all of the matching cups sits one blue speckled cup, Cowboy’s coffee cup.
Touche Cowboy, touche.
’til next Sunday y’all- ππΈ, π£πͺπΆπΆπ β₯
