Order From Chaos

Even the Garage Isn't Exempt

I’ve been married to Lacey for 43 years. I’m still learning new things about her.

Is there anyone else who once a year takes everything out of the garage, wet washes every surface, and vacuums, until ready for surgery, before putting everything back again?

Mind you, this is a barn in rural Vermont, where cars, mower, weed whacker, boots, firewood and assorted paraphernalia that blows in, come to rest.

And some bird shit from frightened birds who fly in when we leave the doors open.

Every year. Everything. Taken out. Put back.

I get to help with the carrying in and out, but, aside from dinner dishes, I’ve never been trusted to do a proper cleaning of almost anything.

Lacey understands that what you care for, lasts. She likes to point to something that looks new, and say, “That’s past the 50 year policy.” Meaning it’s been around that long, and so meticulously cared for that you might think it was just off the shelf.

It’s a mixed blessing for me.

I get to live in a neat, clean house. And I am held to a standard I can never quite meet. Maybe worse is when Lacey asks if I’ve cleaned my study recently – knowing I haven’t – I say that I think it looks great. Which being translated means No.

Sometimes I feel badly getting caught in a shoddy job. It’s taken me all these years to realize that, while she may get exasperated at my blindness to what obviously (to her) needs focused attention, making the garage spotless confirms her picture of how she wants to impact the world.

I can compound her frustration with my low standards by failing to notice her effort to bring order to chaos. I mean never to do that.

When she says she wants to leave things better than she found them, she’s not blowing smoke. You’d love to live where she’s been.