I'm becoming a hoarder

Or so says my husband.

HB and Katherine had Daddy all to themselves as I went to help the local FFA Ag Sales team with their last practice as their volunteer coach.  As I do each time I leave Kelly with the kids, I leave a list with a few reminders that includes general times he can expect to feed and bathe our children, et cetera.  Kelly does a great job making sure tummies are full, little bottoms are dry and everyone goes to bed generally happy and pretty much clean.

This time though, Kelly took his responsibilities over the top.  (We use the phrase "over the top" around here to describe exceptionally great things and often with saracasm as we refer to exceptionally not so great things.)  Earlier that same day I had made a pile of papers that Kelly needed to go through which included a few pieces of mail, some forms and a few other items that I cannot remember at this point.  I didn't mention the pile to Kelly before leaving however upon my return I was pleasantly surprised that he saw the pile AND sorted it (read: thrown away).  I was actually more than pleasantly surprised.  I was down right delighted.  I sang his praises about being a great husband and daddy and then I noticed that the remaining pile which contained my papers looked significantly smaller.  So much so that it warranted me rifling through the papers to take account of the situation.

I asked him if he accidentally went through my pile to which he replied, "Yeah, you are kind of becoming a hoarder."  I then asked what he threw away out of my pile and he looked totally oblivious so I walked over to the trash can and started pulling out our mail-in ballots for the local election (totally not important), several handouts from the pediatrician that I had just gotten that morning from HB's 18-month well check and a handful of other documents.

My husband's initiative to clear off our counter that night brought us both a good chuckle although I would not go so far as claiming to be a hoarder of paper or any other item for that matter.  I will admit that I have a genetic disorder for something I inherited from my mother called "stack and pile" disease where I basically suffer from stacking and piling papers and other important items around my home.  I go through piles as I have the time, sometimes re-stacking after sifting and organizing.  Hoarding though?  Naw, that's a step too far.