My husband worked hard all weekend building these shelves for our shoes. Last night, I went in to put some shoes away and admire his work once more. I noticed something really funny. And I thought, as I looked at our respective shelves, that the placement of our shoes pretty much sums up our marriage.
Here's mine. Note that the shoes are all turned so that the heels are showing. My opinion is that, your shoes are easier to pick up with one hand if you pick them up from the back. You can't hold two shoes in one hand if you hold the toes. Plus, I know what shoes I own, so I don't need to see the front of them to know which shoes they are. Makes perfect sense to me.
Here's Aaron's shelf. His shoes all point toes-down. I asked him why. He said "I don't know, isn't that how they are in stores?" Makes perfect sense to him.
This is how much of our marriage goes. We don't fight much, but we have these teeny, tiny little differences that drive each other crazy sometimes. He's left handed, I'm right. He's far-sighted, I was near-sighted until I had Lasik. I read novels, Dr. Phil books, and memoirs, he listens to financial and historical books on CD. He drives all leaned back with one FINGER on the wheel, I'm at 10 and 2, driving like a grandma (since I had kids, that is.) He likes alternative rock, I like hip hop and country. He likes sci-fi and adventure movies, I like drama and romantic comedies. If we have plans to go to Target and lunch, I'll plan to hit Target and then eat, he thinks we should eat first. I can't relax until all my chores are pretty caught up, he can't accomplish chores until he's had a chance to relax. I can't quit a project until it's finished, he usually has three or four things going all at once. I like green veggies just about any way they can be cooked (or uncooked, for that matter), he would kiss me like there's no tomorrow if I told him he never had to eat another green bean. He prefers fast food to home cooking, I'd rather have fried chicken and mashed potatoes. (Side note: To him, KFC and instant mashed potatoes are equal to home cooked made-from-scratch fried chicken and mashed potatoes. I do NOT agree.) He falls asleep within 5 minutes of his head hitting the pillow, I lie awake for hours sometimes, just listening to him snore and wishing sleep would find me. I'm uptight, he's laid back. I like to be with friends and family and party into the wee hours, he likes to drink beer watching a game, barely speaking to anyone in the room and hitting the sack by 11. I could go on and on, but you are probably already bored. That is, if you haven't quit reading already.
My point is this: Opposites definitely attract. We come from different backgrounds and different families. We have almost completely opposite views on most of the every day decisions we make. But it works. We get frustrated and have to agree to disagree much of the time. But somehow, it works. After thinking about it this evening, I think it works because, even though we disagree on the little things, we agree on what matters. We have almost identical views on religion and politics. We agree on how and when to spend our money. We agree (in general) on how we want to raise our children. Our priorities about what is important in life are in the same order. Our core values and ideals are the same. In the long run, I think that's what matters. Not whose shoes are pointing what way.
Speaking of that, I noticed something. My shoes are a bit skewed. Look at my running shoes. Me, the organized, OCD one who always puts things where they belong. His are perfect. Him, the laid back, leave shoes in the living room for a month if I'd let him. That's funny. Well, maybe not ha-ha funny. Actually, it's not funny at all. It's just a general observation from a bored housewife.
Oh, one more thing. The shoes on the shelf are not my only shoes. Those are the ones without boxes. There are two more shelves in the top of my closet that look like this:
Wait. What's this? These are skewed too. What is my problem? I think I'm being passive-aggressive and rebelling against my own strict policy on organization by letting my shoes become out of control. I may need to call my therapist.