Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Now that I’m not working I find myself being more observant about the style differences (for lack of a better term) between Earl and me.  I can only hope they won’t become issues.

For instance, I believe trash baskets are to be filled with trash before they are emptied. But Earl subscribes to the theory that you take each item of trash directly to the Herby-Curby waiting in the garage that is emptied weekly.

Okay.  He can take his trash, while I can store mine until the appointed pick-up day, right?  They all end up in the same landfill.

The thing is that my overloaded trash basket in my office bugs him.  He always wants to get rid of the contents before they mound over the top.  And I resist.  In fact, I subversively put things in other waste baskets so that he has something to empty and will leave my office waste basket alone.

Crazy, isn’t it?

I only hope these ingrained habits don’t become bêtes noirs.   (That’s French for “black beasts,” meaning elephants in the room.)