Ronda's been gone this week for a long-needed vacation in Myrtle Beach, SC. Whenever she goes away for more than two days, the house starts -- um -- devolving. It's no secret that she's a much better housekeeper than I am, and these are the days where it's most apparent.
Today I was thinking about laundry, as I reached to the back of the sock drawer for a clean pair. When Ronda's here, the laundry doesn't pile up like it's piled up right now. I'll panic tonight and wash a dozen loads before Ronda gets home tomorrow.
Why is this?
Then it dawned on me, I look at the clean clothes in the drawers and closet as a supply of clothes. I'll just grab whatever's there, as long as it matches, or almost matches. As long as there is enough for a day or two, I'm good.
Ronda looks at the clothes in the drawers and closet as a choice of what to wear each day. Should she wear the blue blouse or the brown blouse? Are scrubs required, or is it a jeans day? It's a necessity in her job, where she interacts with her company's customers, who also happen to be doctors.
She also dresses waaaaaay better than I do.
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