More lessons on living with another human being and a few animules

You would think after thirty years of living with up to twenty-five other guys in a monastery -- old, young, smokers, nonsmokers, English-speaking and Spanish-speaking -- , I would be used to coping with the dynamics of living with someone else. After all, I went from living at home with my family to living in a dorm suite with three other guys, to living in a shared apartment to monasteries in Arkansas, Texas, Massachusetts, Wisconsin, Washington, DC, St. Louis, Mexico City, Illinois... Only for a couple of years in Chicago did I have a place all to myself. So I should have this shared living space thing down pat.

Still, it is sometimes a challenge. Tom is a great and generous person to share living space with, but our styles are rather different. (I know I have whined about this before, but let me go on.)

All those years in the monastery turned me into a fan of "A Place for Everything and Everything in Its Place As Soon As You are Done with It." Tom's thirty years of marriage and a house full of teenagers taught him that some things will never be found again unless they are left lying around in plain sight. I know I have told you that he threatened to build two kitchens when he designed this house: one for him to use where everything was lying around on top of counters, and one for me to show people where everything would be put neatly away.

His camera wasn't working, so he got batteries to put in. He keeps the batteries in a box in a drawer in a file cabinet in his office. How orderly can you get, right? But does he put them back there once he is done? No. He leaves them on the dining room table, along with the foam gasket left over from putting in the window units, the camera case, the newspaper from last Friday, the cowboy hat he wore to the parade yesterday, the Grisham novel he is reading, the pen and notepad he made the shopping list on, two or three pairs of scissors used to cut the foam...

I go around and put it all back where it belongs, unless I figure he will be looking for it in the next hour or so. At some point I can be sure he will say, "Where are the tweezers? I need to detick the cat." The tweezers are either (a) where he last used them and set them down, or (b) in his bathroom where they belong and where I put them after he last used them and set them down on the sink.

I heave a huuuuge sigh like the martyr that I am and go track them down. If I am smart, I will hover around so that I can snatch them up and put them right back WHERE THEY BELONG!

He recently bought me a refrigerator magnet that says "Thou shalt not snivel" as a reminder to loosen up. He also brought back a "Don't Mess with Texas" magnet from his trip to John's graduation. So I guess we are both learning.

The feline animules, of course, just ignore us as best they can. For them, "Everything in Its Place" means food in the dish and litter in the box. And, of course, someone to open the door when they want to go through it.