Lost Marbles

I tremble to see my wife coming at me with a bucket of water, a mop and the words “Spring Cleaning” on her lips.  I always try to book my fly-fishing trip for the weekend I think she’ll pick to do it, but it never matters. It’s always waiting for me when I return. It’s not the cleaning that bothers me, it’s trying to find a new place to keep all the stuff. I always end up at the door of the spare bedroom at the end of the hall, staring like a wimp at a pile of belongings that I know I’ll never conquer. I’ll just move it around a little and rearrange the pile before closing the door and calling it done. I guess that’s why my wife bought a large shed last fall, and moved the contents of an entire spare bedroom – except for the actual items that originally qualified it as a bedroom – out there.

So this spring, after the dutiful dusting of places no one will ever look, and the mopping of spots that never see daylight, we were done. Done with the dreaded chore of spring cleaning, because my wonderful, insightful and terribly bright wife had the amazing idea to invest in outdoor storage to keep our stuff stored and organized. I decided to book my fly fishing trip with a few extra days, and I even invited my wife along this time.