My love notes are not about loving the person they are addressed to. They are about what I would love that person to do.
For example, in my bathroom, I have multiple notes. One says, “Don’t use hand towel to dry hair! Hang towel up properly!” Another says, “Leave door open so bathroom will be warmer!” I had one that said, “Change the toilet roll!” but it mysteriously ended up in the trashcan. The empty toilet roll, sadly, did not.
My notes involve a lot of exclamation points. And no one reads them. The door is shut, and the towel is soaking wet and balled up either sitting on the towel rack or, adding insult to injury, on the floor.
I have a slew of notes in the laundry room: “Put soap on grocery list when low!” “Don’t dry other people’s clothes!” (This after my husband shrank, well, many items. He never listens. I’m hoping he’ll read.) “Shut door hard so cats won’t escape!” “Don’t leave baskets of laundry on the floor — Boo will pee in them!”
I even have notes inside my kitchen cabinets: “Rinse these bowls well! Dried cereal becomes concrete!” “Three cookies at a time only!” I’ve even stooped to notes in the freezer: “One ice cream snack per day!”
My son thinks I’m a psycho. I think he’s a slob.
My daughter Sheri is mildly obsessive-compulsive, and keeping things just so is something we bond over. The glasses on the open shelf have to be perfectly balanced, preferably in a pyramid shape — can’t have more on the left than the right. But unfortunately, her OCD doesn’t apply to her bedroom, which I can’t understand. Why is she so obsessive about the glasses in the kitchen and not the clothes all over her floor?
I saw a T-shirt once that said, “I have CDO. (That’s obsessive-compulsive disorder with the letters in the proper order.)” I’m thinking of buying two, but I know one of them would end up on the floor, just one more thing to annoy me.