Day Thirteen: Organize the Ones You Love

My husband possesses many talents:  He's a wiz with numbers.  He's handy.  He's not afraid to throw on an apron and make a mean dinner.  And if you want someone to spin you around the dance floor, he's your man.

He cannot, however, choose his own clothes (he's color blind), choose a decent greeting card (he once gave me a card addressed "to the man I love"), he cannot spell (he once wrote me a note addressing me as his "angle"), and he cannot organize.  Anything.  I asked him to organize some gardening supplies and this is the result:

Supplies.  In a box.

Also in the box were: 3 empty plastic bags, an old battery, an article on Peyton Manning and 2 Tootsie Pops.

The Gardening Box Issue came to a head when I was sent to the hardware store to buy some rubber hose washers.  Apparently, we were out of rubber hose washers and needed to stock up.  So, like a good wife, off to the hardware store I went...

After buying the washers, I went home to discover a cache of hose washers already in The Box.  It was like my husband was stockpiling the things in case there was a run on hose washers.  Panic in the streets!  Rubber Shortage!

I suspect he could not find all the hose washers hidden at the bottom of The Box.

Martha says we should organize small supplies into compartmentalized boxes, but cautions us to also buy something large enough for future acquisitions.  Accordingly, I set out to find an organizer for the contents of our Gardening Box.

What I bought is large enough to fit an infant or small animal:

I was worried that the tool box was a bit overkill for our meagre needs (after all, the contents were formally housed in a BOX) but after organizing the contents (and trashing the Tootsie Pops) we had just enough room.

I stopped just short of labeling all the different compartments...it is a manly toolbox after all...and I didn't want him to be teased by the other handy husbands on the block.

Despite his obvious organizing deficiencies, I think I'll be keeping my husband.

I tried to return him, but his mother wouldn't answer the door.