The Better Half or why I am leaving my apartment in disarray

People who know me, akin me to an almost OCD cleanliness guy. Inarguably, there is some chaos around what I do, and my sense of organization is not the best. (It's hard to beat 20+ years of disorganized thoughts and sense of cleanliness having grown up in my family.) However, ever since I have moved out of my house, and having tasted my first apartment maintenance, I have been super finicky on cleanliness, regularly cleaning the apartment end to end and never procrastinating on throwing the trash, doing the dishes and cleaning the stoves and organizing to the best of my ability. On the other hand, Harini, my better half is more of the organized chaos person. She is not the first to determine when to throw the trash out or clean the stove, but is more interested in the creative process of providing food on the table. (The caveat being the bathroom - she's super finicky on cleaning that very regularly)

With a recent trip to India, we left the tiny apartment that we live in much to Harini's comfort zone. Upon returning, I was greeted with the clothes that she finally decided not to take and a display of shoes and other footwear, which is on track to compete with the ex CM of Tamil Nadu. The cleanliness streak in me has been fighting jet lag over the last week and could not concentrate on the task of re-organizing things. So, as I sit on this Saturday afternoon, with the Seattle sun streaking into the apartment, I decided to go ahead with the spring cleaning of the apartment.

As I started pulling things together, I reasoned that I am going to leave it as is. The next set of sentences are something that I never thought I would ever say. For people who can't tolerate cheese, please stop reading... Now!

I decided that I am going to live in this clutter until Harini comes back to stay with me. I finally realized the meaning of a "better half." There is a sense of longing in me for the companionship of my wife that I miss exactly two conscious days after she is not around. The first two days are a sense of "woohoo freedom" quickly replaced by a vacuum of "why does this feel so empty?"

The messiness is a stark reminder for me that I want to expedite her return back home. The clothes lying around stands as a static replacement for her absence. The unwashed dishes are a feeble replacement for the bustle of activity that surrounds the old ball and chain.

I miss you gunds. Come back soon.