The acorn does not fall far from the tree

As a teenager my room was a disaster (are you reading that Llara?).

My mother would say over and over, "don't put it down, put it away." I didn't grasp the concept then.

However my first husband expected a totally spotless house. We were stationed in Stuttgart at the time where he was in the Army band. In those days before Betty Frieden and Women's Lib, I tried to comply. A friendly sergeant  in the army who liked us both enough to want to save our marriage would stop by my apartment and "inspect" it to make sure Rick One would be happy.

Yes, first and last husbands share the same name, but that's all. I may make many mistakes in my life but I seldom duplicate one.

Still my ex would arrive and find some trace of dirt even if he had to stand on a chair and check the top of the doorway (yup he did that and lived to tell the tale).

He created a neat freak.

Flash forward years later after the divorce. 

When we (the we being the couple I lived with for over a decade and Llara) were renovating the Wigglesworth house which meant it was always a disaster, I reverted to my messy teenage ways. At one point I heard Susan ask, "You're going to nail her underwear to the wall?" Tired of seeing my panties pile up in the still unfinished bathroom Bill stapled them to the wallboard. (It was an idea I copied later in life with another messy teenager only I used tape not staples.)

Fast forward to when I lived in a finished place. I wanted the rooms always neat...everything in its place. Llara's room wasn't included but door-shutting was recommended. I had the same attitude for the other places I lived.

This continued to a 89% degree at my housemate's. In the Argelès nest it was always everything in its place 99% of the time when I was alone. I never imposed my OCDness on my house guests.

Now Rick and I share the warren, and I don't say anything when I see a dish put on the counter and not in the dishwasher. Nor do I mention the candy wrapper that should have been in the trash rather than put on the counter...after all he shared the chocolate from the candy wrapper. We count chocolate as salad because it comes from a plant. I suspect he's neater than he would be on his own and I'm mellowing. But I can still hear my mother saying, "don't put it down, put it away."

If my mother would still alive, she'd be giggling and saying, "I told you so."

I guess I'm the acorn hanging out near the tree but trying to roll away a little bit.