We have a hidden back stairwell in our big house which we use for a pot storehouse, and no matter how either of us tries to order it, the pots default to chaos. My wife every few years tries to design a new order that will accommodate the incoming tide of chaos, but no dike can withstand this rising ocean.
Chaos turns into order; order turns into chaos. Our marriage is governed by the moon where the changing tide laps upon the shore of our mutually shared home office particularly and on the fringes of the other rooms. We have separate bedrooms so Chaos and Order can stay separated there. Need I mention which room is ordered and which one is chaotic?
In our office, the incoming tide of junk mail and flotsam stays on her side, while the outgoing tide stays on my side. The result of this division is that she can’t find anything, and I have thrown what I need out. Separate but equal is the rule here, like in the segregated south.
But in the kitchen the tides clash because my job description is that of the Cleaner, and her’s is the Cook. I keep the house clean and ordered, fuming though at the small islands of clutter where the wife sits. But, given that I allows these islands of chaos to exist, there is mutual agreement to keep the big rooms ordered. What if Jesus came for a visit.
Balance is achieved when then tides are equal. But again, in the kitchen the tides overlap. Whatever the Cook orders, I introduce chaos, or my order, which the Cook perceives as chaos. And when I order, the Cook introduces her order, or my chaos.
But this Thanksgiving the Cook has all this great energy yesterday and designed some shelf holders for the chaotic pot tops that have so far resisted any attempts at order. Like frisbees, they just like to land in the pantry wherever they want to, creating foaming irritation where these two tides meet.