We all have our quirks.
Fred, the husband, while messy in certain of his personal habits, has never been able to stand untidy food in the refrigerator. That means he can't tolerate things like uncovered plates of leftovers just sitting in there. He likes food to be in plastic containers. Cap on the milk carton. Etc.
I am not sure if he got this trait from having a family of origin that was tidy about food, or just the opposite. He has five sisters, and it could be that after eighteen years of looking at plates of dried-up stuff shoved into the refrigerator by anyone and everyone, he just can't stand it.
My family of origin was notorious for icky food management. Bread was always stale, because no one twisted the bag shut after removing the first piece. A milk carton kept its cap only until the first person poured milk out of it. (Yes, our milk always had a slightly nasty taste, like whatever food happened to be in the refrigerator. On plates. Uncovered.)
I gave up my habit of shoving plates of exposed food in the fridge shortly after I married Fred, when I found out it bothered him. While I, too, am messy in certain personal habits, I have found that I like clean food that doesn't smell or taste like anything except what it is.
Some of my quirks are, unfortunately, not shared by those who share the house with me. Hangers, for one. When I was a kid, clothing that was hung on a hanger at our house might be hung inside out. No one seemed to care. My mother still has clothes in her closets that are hanging inside out.
For some reason, this bugs me. I never, ever, hang clothes inside out on a hanger. I also don't like things hanging messily, with shoulders askew. And at least one button needs to be done up on a shirt with buttons, so the shirt doesn't fall off the hanger.
Mind you, this doesn't mean that I have perfect clothing habits. At this very moment, there is a pile of clean clothes on a bed downstairs that have been waiting for days to be put away. (Well, they were clean a few days ago, anyway, before the cats slept on them.)
But if I'm going to hang things up, I'm going to do it right.
Fred doesn't have this, er, hang-up of mine. He hangs things up any which way. I hate that, because I am perfect. I hang things up right.
Okay, I'm lying. I said earlier I have never, ever hung up clothing inside out. I lied, I lied, I lied! Today, I was putting away some clothes, accidentally hung up a shirt inside out, and LEFT IT THAT WAY.
I am sinking, buried beneath a pile of children, pets, and laundry. Next thing you know I'll be leaving the cap off the milk.
