So, while I've been too deep in housebuilding to take pictures or come up with anything cleverly bloggable, I was delivered into understanding about a certain something today that needs to be shared.

Piles.

Yes, piles, and not in the physically ailing sense.

It seems the need to pile is universal among males. This is news to me, and sadly, I am relieved. I say sadly because I really wouldn't wish this affliction on anyone.

Boy piles. It's actually a full-on system of organization for him. My biggest peeve is the next-to-the-bed-piles. If I am not constantly vigilant, before I know it, there will be three or four piles of clothes in various states of worn/dirty, hastily wadded...ahem...folded up, in a line next to boy's side of the bed. It makes me a little psycho, and when I'm feeling cranky or just impatient, I've been known to scoop everything up and shove it under his pillow. Like a dirty look, only more annoying.
(Now would be a good time for a photographic example, only I don't have any because I've been living on the edge and eating too much fast food, but you get it, right?)

Another pile-worthy item is mail. ( O the picture possibilities here...) I hold a strict 'deal with it immediately' policy on mail. I bring it in and it gets recycled or filed immediately. Boy not so much. If he brings in the mail, we could easily have weeks' old junk mail sitting on the table for, well....weeks. Somehow I find this insulting. Like saying thanks to the junk mailers by hosting them at my kitchen table.

As it turns out, a not insignificant amount of time and energy is being spent by myself and my female pals engaged in boy pile management. I just don't get it. How can one live in the company of piles and piles and not feel unsettled?? Tense even.

I don't know.

So Nikki...what is in the Ross drawer??