Matt (my husband) isn’t alone in noticing my eccentricities that pair with my dad. Since moving back to my hometown a few years ago and spending more time with my parents, I increasingly noticed our commonalities. Our hoarding. Our overoptimism. Our rushing. Then, there’s the little things that irritate our spouses, like leaving water containers all over the place like we’re the kid from the movie Signs. You never know when Joaquin Phoenix will need that glass of water to kill an alien with, or quench a thirst. Speaking of which, excuse me for a brief intermission while I sip on my mason jar (conveniently located right next to me).
After our failed attempts to de-clutter a shed on the farm (due to neither of us ever throwing anything away), my mom stepped in. “What one throws, the other keeps, and nothing gets done!” she exclaimed. Since our family loves to upcycle old junk, throwing isn’t really a word in our vocabulary.
In optimism there is magic. In pessimism there is nothing. – ABRAHAM HICKS