Life changing power of dish wand storage

I had a comment from a reader two months ago now and it pops back into my mind all the time.

Clayton from Kitchener wrote a lovely note about a column recounting a standoff between me and my wife over who was going to crack and wash a pot in the sink first. I did.

In his lovely note, Clayton from Kitchener told me he and his wife enjoyed hearing about our battle of wills.

I won’t go into a lot of detail because Clayton from Kitchener might be a private guy, but the short version of the story is that he and his wife have had similar standoffs, but that she is always the one who cracks and cleans up.

“Luckily, she’s as OCD as you are,” he writes.

The note went even deeper as Clayton also explains that his wife was having medical challenges and that hearing him read that column to her was a nice boost to her spirits. Wow. I’ve never received an email quite like that. It truly left me speechless.

He thinks I’m OCD?

Me? Really? Why would he say that?

Hm.

For two months, I’ve been paying more attention to my actions to disprove this ludicrous assessment. Am I OCD because my phone must sit on the table squarely oriented to the placemat corners? Am I OCD because the thermostat and TV volume must be set at even numbers? I think not. That’s just common sense.

Still … why would Clayton from Kitchener say I’m OCD out of nowhere?

Maybe I am OCD.

I had to have a difficult conversation with my wife just last week. We have one of those dish washing wands — the one with the little sponge on the end and a handle that you fill with liquid dish soap.

It’s life changing. If you still wash your dishes with a cloth, you’re not my friend.

Not to get sidetracked, but here’s something else life changing: wash your bath mat. I mean it. It’s a small treat, but it might just make you feel good for two seconds.

Here's another life changing tip that I just discovered this morning: if you wear glasses, like me, wear them occasionally while grooming. Take a good look at your nostrils, ears and eyebrows through your lenses. Things look pretty tidy with the glasses off. Put them on and my head looks like an overgrown vacant lot.

Back to our sponge. I’ve noticed that every morning, it’s empty. It’s leaking!

When it’s stored in the sink with the spongy end pointing down, the soap runs out. Makes sense, gravity and all that.

The thing is, I don’t set the wand down sponge side down because I don’t want it to leak. Someone else in my household doesn’t seem to care.

You know what else she doesn’t care about? Storing our plastic containers with the lids on. We have a huge drawer for our storage containers. We don’t even need to stack them like nesting dolls. We can snap the lids on and chuck them in the big drawer.

I’m diligent with putting the lids on. Need a container? Why would you want to hunt through a messy drawer for the lid?

My wife chucks loose containers and orphaned lids in the drawer and it looks like a tornado hit it. We don’t have to live this way. We have the drawer space. We don’t need chaos.

I thought about the dish wand and the lids and I thought of Clayton from Kitchener and, OK, maybe I’m a little OCD.

Still, I had to say something. I built up the courage and I was braced for a backlash.

Instead, I got an eyeroll, a chuckle and a, “OK. Wow, you really worry about some weird little things.”

Guess it wasn’t a big deal for her.

I’m glad Clayton from Kitchener got me thinking and I was also glad to hear from him again in a followup note. His wife was doing a little better! Great!

How about the column? Still enjoying it? Still boosting spirits and aiding in recovery? Changing lives? Meh.

“She didn’t like this week’s as much.”