On December 24, 2004, Steph was asked to make Mike the happiest man in the world by being his wife. That request came with a lot of joy. Deep down, he knew he was doing the right thing, but he also knew that someday, they would have to live together. With not a care in the world, they bought their first home and moved in. Sometime later, they both discovered that the two were completely different in almost every way possible. Can two people live in a house without driving each other crazy?”


{thanks to Kel for this awesome picture!}

The hubster and I dated other for six years before we got engaged and bought a house together. Throughout college, we may or may not have lived with each other {but it was nothing full time}. He had an inkling that I wasn’t the most domesticated person. I don’t know if thought the rock on my finger or the fact that the house was ours would change my ways. But boy, was he wrong!

I like to joke around and tell him that he has OCD tendencies. Seriously, people. Some of the things that he does or has to do just plain drive me nuts. There’s no skirting the issues on this one. He’s compulsive.

His towel has to be hung over the shower rod and straightened. Mine gets thrown on the toilet or the floor.

He has to put his clothes away immediately. Mine sit in the laundry basket. {Although, I have to admit, he’s breaking me out of this habit}.

When he hangs his clothes up, they need to be prestine on the hanger. Mine are hanging onto the hanger for dear life.

All of his clothes in his closet face the same direction. Mine, well, see the above statement.

He loads the dishwasher in a particular order. Me, not so much, I just throw them in there and push the button.

He is insistent on doing the laundry because I “don’t do it right.”  I don’t really complain about this one.

When we get into bed at night, he has to straighten the covers, make sure the sheet lines up with the comforter, and he has to have his corner. Me…well, as long as there is a blanket covering me I could care less which part it is or how it strewn about.

I have to admit that I have changed some of my ways recently {it has to be the nesting}. But that doesn’t stop his OCD-ness from driving me nuts?

Do you live with a a Felix? Or are you an Oscar like me?

P.S. The hubster thinks it’s hysterical that I am Oscar {messy and a grouch}. Hardee-har-har!

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