An excerpt from one of my favorite books, Love Story. This scene takes place right after Oliver and Jenny’s wedding.

…..It was then that the awesome truth started to get to me.

“Jenny, we’re legally married!”

“Yeah, now I can be a bitch.”

Any idiot knows that marriage is a big step in life, full of changes, adjustments, and compromises.

I guess I just didn’t realize how much of an anally retentive, control freak I am until I got married.

I come from a family of neat freaks. I still remember how on every Sunday, my father would take his only day off from work to organize massive house cleanings. My friends and acquaintances constantly comment on my organization and cleanliness, but what they don’t know is that I’m the slob in my family.

Meanwhile, J is a normal guy. Well, maybe a bit worse than most, having had his mother constantly pick up after him as he grew up.

When first unpacking, he haphazardly stashed his clothes in the closet and shelves. I proceeded to reorder his clothes in the closet by type and sleeve length (I resisted the urge to organize by color as well – I knew he’d never keep that up). I took out everything from the shelves, lined the shelves first with tissue paper, re-folded everything, and carefully placed them back in the shelves with the clothes he wears most often at top.

When he comes home from work, he always throws his wallet, ID badge, sunglasses, and loose change onto the table. So I bought him this valet so that he can neatly store his everyday items.

I refuse to let him do laundry, because I need my clothes to be folded a certain way.

As much as I love gadgets, I never use the dishwasher because it can never get everything squeaky-clean and spot-free as I can. I refuse to use rubber gloves when doing the dishes (“But you’ll ruin your hands!” my mother says) because I can only feel every grit and oil slick with my naked hands.

I give him dirty looks when he’s playing on the XBox while I’m unpacking. I’ve asked him every day this week to hang the curtains (unfortunately I’m too short for this job). I sigh loudly whenever I see that he hasn’t wiped the sink clean after brushing his teeth. I yell at him for throwing his dirty clothes and socks on the floor.

Yes, I’m a major pain in the you-know-what.

The thing is, I can be pretty relaxed and easy-going…just as long as the house is clean, that is. Throw back a beer and pizza while playing Smash Bros? No problem! But let’s make our place a HOME first, buddy.

I think I’m starting to succeed. J was actually very happy to see the valet I bought for him. And last night, he hung his clothes for the first time ever.

Little steps, my friends…