Match

Yesterday Josh The Pilot and I found ourselves--as we often are--requested to remove six matches from a box, place them on a table, and await further instructions. While we sat, I glanced up at my unruly pile of matches, then looked over at his seat, where six matchsticks sat in an eldest-child perfectly aligned row, an even red splash marching across the white tablecloth.

Marriages are built on far less.

takes two at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com

Comments

[Josh The Pilot]

I love you and your unruly matches!

[j.s.]

We do the same with dirty dishes that you do with the matches. He likes to make perfectly aligned dish stacks on the counter, while I just shove mine wherever there's kinda almost room.

Wish he was equally as anal about making sure his clothes get into the hamper when he's done with them...

[red pill junkie]

Tell yourself that, as a right-brain person, you prefer to arrange things in a FRACTAL order.

Just like God does.

Hey, it works for me! :-)

[Kris]

We are Files and Piles - guess which one is me???

[Anne From Iowa]

Ha! My marriage is that way too. We like to think that we perfectly complement each other: Mark does the math, I do the spelling. I keep him from getting too stuffy, he keeps me from going crazy (literally - he makes sure I take my "happy" pills). And yes, he is the oldest of 3, I am the youngest of 8...

[Adrian]

Huh? What's up with the matches and who is wanting you to put them on the table and await further instructions? I think I've spent my entire married life with our matches shoved up in the cabinet over the stove, peacefully awaiting the 4th of July or some other such match-necessary occasion. Is this a nephew thing, or is there some evil match hoarding plot afoot?

[MB]

It was a hideous icebreaker game at a banquet.