Sunday, November 20, 2011

Compartments

As I am laying here in bed with my husband snoozing beside me, all I can think of is his workbench in the garage. His workspace is not what you would call perfectly clean. There are greasy things there, tubes of adhesives, and there is sawdust. There are cans of paint with so much paint dried on the label that you don't have to guess at the color of the paint on the inside.

You know what you won't see? You won't see screws, washers, nails or tools. These things are all put away in drawers or cans or chests. The cans have crude, but clearly written labels on them. Want a washer? It's in that can. Want a ratchet? The ratchet and sockets are in that chest. I'm not really sure what is in the drawers, but I'm pretty sure that Nate knows what is in them.

And that is the way that Nate is. In fact, after having four sons, I'm pretty sure that is the way most men, and some lucky women are. They have drawers that they put events and emotions in when they are done with them.

Teenage angst? Top drawer on the left, the one with the lock on it.

Family drama? Okay depends, if it is off spring or wife drama it's in the top right drawer, the one with a lock on it. If it is drama from any other family member, it's in the chest under the work bench, with the padlock on it.

Financial worries? It goes in the third draw down on the left.

Work problems? Second draw from the bottom on the right hand side.

On and on. Every drama, every worry, every anger has it's place in these mental chests. They get dealt with, they get put away in the right drawer and sometimes they never see the light of day again.

And with all these issues dealt with and neatly put away, Nate slumbers peacefully away ...... while I sit here, my blood pressure slightly raised, issues tumbling around my brain, keeping me awake.

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