In many ways, Steven and I are a perfect match. We are both avid sports fans. We are both adventurous eaters and enjoy trying new foods and restaurants. And with the exception of Chapelle’s Show (which makes me downright homicidal) and Dirty Dancing (which Steven can’t take seriously because he will always see Jennifer Grey as Ferris Bueller’s sister), we have the same taste in television and movies.

And yet, for all of our similarities, we have just enough differences to keep us from becoming one of those creepy couples who finish each other’s sentences and won’t leave the house unless they are wearing color coordinated outfits.

The biggest difference by far is our personalities in general. See, Steven is what people used to call a “Type A” personality. He’s the sort of guy who needs a plan, a schedule, something to do. He prefers order and simplicity. He likes everything to be neat and tidy. His office at work is nearly bare–everything scanned, no paper or pens lying around, one photo hanging on the wall. If Steven could have a very detailed map of every major event and issue that he will encounter throughout the rest of his life, he would be the happiest guy in the world.

I, on the other hand, believe that term “organized chaos” is an adequate description of both my desk in our home office and my entire life in general. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not a total disgusting slob. In general, I want things to be relatively tidy. Yet, while my home would probably fail a white glove test on any given day, ask me where something is and 99% of the time, I can tell you. Having a photographic memory certainly helps, but there is also something about my brain that is just able to function and see reason and order where others (like my anal husband) only see chaos.

What can I say? It’s a gift.

Since we started dating, this clashing of the Type A and Type B, left-brain right-brain personalities has been a source of both humor and frustration for Steven and me. I’ll give an annoyed sigh when he asks me for the thirteenth time what I plan to do with the pile of stuff on the counter, and he’ll roll his eyes when the clutter from my desk slowly begins migrating onto his. I usually get a good three or four day grace period before he gathers up my things and plops them in a pile on the far corner of my desk.

I have to admit though, I’ve gotten more than my share of laughs (and even small bit of satisfaction) as it seems that Steven has misplaced his sixth, that’s right SIXTH jumpdrive. Okay, so maybe I’m mean, and maybe I find it a little funnier because my husband works with computers for a living, but after all of the teasing I get for being such a disaster and leaving things lie around the house, I find it oh so ironic that I’m not the one consistently losing things. The only jumpdrive I ever “lost” was the one that our friend Foerth’s evil dog Indiana tried to eat. And hell, I still have that one. It may be in two pieces, but it’s still tucked carefully away in a drawer in the basement, right where I put it.

We’re not even 100% sure what happened to Steven’s jumpdrives. He believes he might have left one of them plugged into a computer he was using for class. The rest? Just gone. He remembers having them in his pockets, or setting them on the counter, or lying them next to his wallet and keys on the bed while he was changing clothes after work. A few times he has even accused me of moving them, but really, he should know better. It can take me weeks to even move my own stuff sometimes. I’m not about to go moving anyone else’s.

Tonight, Steven even tried accusing Electra of eating it, but unless that baby was slathered in peanut butter or wrapped tightly in bacon, I doubt our lazy hound would have given it much more than a curious sniff and maybe a quick lick for good measure.

Someday, I imagine we’ll find them, perhaps even all six of them, probably in the same place we’ll find all of our missing socks. Until then, I’ll just laugh at how crazy it drives my husband that, once again, he is the one losing things and not his scatterbrained wife.

And just for the record, that jumpdrive that Steven is holding is mine, borrowed for the photo from the drawer where I keep it. 🙂

Tonight’s 365 Project entry is dedicated to my sweet anal husband for being the better half that keeps me sane, and for always being such a good sport when he discovers he’s the topic of the latest blog!

About the Author Lori Romano

I am a writer, photographer, wife, mother, dog owner, half-assed housekeeper and a self-proclaimed coffee and chocolate addict. One day, I will write a book.

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