It’s Not Just Me

RWT likes to act like I am the only Type-A person in our household. And I freely admit that I can certainly be anal and rather exacting about many things.

Like my "rules" for loading the dishwasher – any loose tupperware-type containers must be weighed down with a bowl so they don’t flip during the wash cycle and fill with water and the lids must be placed parallel to the front of the dishwasher, not along the sides of the rack where only drinking glasses are allowed.

Or how I go ballistic if anyone reads my magazines before I do (I suspect this one is directly related to being the youngest of three sisters and having to share magazines while growing up) and I also need to rip out all the smelly perfume ads and any other heavier-stock tear-outs and pages before I begin reading.

At least I do not alphabetize my pantry contents like my sister or go nutso over water spots in the sink like my dad. And at the age of three, my niece would ride her tricycle around their neighborhood on recycling day, straightening all of the recycling bins so they were in line with the sidewalk. Yes, it certainly runs in the family.

However, as much as RWT likes to think he is as chaotic as his family, it is simply not true. This weekend, we spent a good deal of time determining which of his suits go with which ties and which shirts. Wearing civilian clothes to work is still rather novel for him and he does not want to look like all the other military folk who can be pegged in an instant by their poor fashion taste.

But merely determining what goes together is not where it ended. After the various combinations were recorded, the data was then transferred into a spreadsheet. And he plans on analyzing the distribution to see if any of the suits need more ties to match. He is also toying with the idea of a program to randomly generate acceptable outfits and of course, it must take into account that each suit, the colored shirts, and a general color of tie cannot be worn more than once a week or, at the very least, on subsequent days.

And this is not the first time I’ve witnessed this type of behavior out of him. When we lived in Indian Head and had a vegetable garden, RWT requested that I weigh all of the produce I harvested. He took those numbers, some pricing he researched at the local grocery store and all of the costs to set up the garden and, yes, put them all into a spreadsheet and performed cost analysis on the gardening endeavor (the basil was the big “cash” crop).

So although RWT acts like Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky Guy, deep, deep down he is actually Mr. Let’s-Analyze-This Man. Don’t let him fool you into thinking differently!