My darling, dashing, comically flawed husband has a bit of OCD. He doesn't turn lights on and off a hundred times, but he does have a fetish for certain kinds of order. Our bills are an incomprehensible mess, but all our books are in alphabetical order. He can't find his keys, but his songs in iTunes are meticulously maintained, labeled and rated. So, today when Violet made the irreversible decision to combine all eight Play-Doh colors into one blob, I had a moment of panic. I tried to separate them and momentarily became frantic. I took a deep breath, allowed reason to enter my lungs and then let it go. Daddy never wants to do Play-Doh anyway. It feels icky on his fingers...
Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone
