Stretching the Rules.

I've been giving the BF lessons.
Lessons of things he must know if he wants to live amicably with Corinner-Elly.

Lesson #1 was how to wind plastic bags into tiny, space-saving balls that are stored and later recycled at the nearest Walmart. I demonstrated how such a feat was to be completed and then had him take a try.

He passed with flying colors.

A few days later, it was time for lesson #2: titled, 'Dishwashers Can't Do Everything.' For some reason, none of my former/present roommates grasp this concept.

How they expect to simply throw a plate covered in spaghetti sauce that's been drying in their car for three weeks in the dishwasher and hope that it will come out sparkly clean never ceases to amaze me.

Lesson #3, however, required simple observance, nothing more.
As I passed the kitchen table to find all its chairs sprawled haphazardly, I knew it must be said.

Push. In. Your. Chair.

How simple is that?
And yet surprisingly difficult for people.

By the time lesson #4 came around, I had begun to realize that this may very well be quite an extensive education. But it couldn't be avoided.

The moment I saw him toss the newspaper ads he'd just retrieved from his mailbox on a large pile of similarly abandoned garbage in the stairwell, I knew something must be said.

Is it really so hard to throw away or, heaven forbid, recycle unwanted mailers?..

Unfortunately, that lesson is still in the works.
Let's just say I have an unruly and opinionated student.

At least when it comes to his junk mail.

And then, last night, after coming home from an unexpectedly long Relief Society presidency trip to the bishop's house, I returned to find all of the evening's dinner group leftovers still sitting out on the counter.

Granted they were all stored in Tupperware and piled neatly.
But sitting out growing spores none-the-less.

Don't get me wrong. He gets major points for boxing all of the food for me. But I couldn't help but shake my head and smile when I noticed he'd forgotten the last (and probably most important) step.

Thus, lesson #5 was born: always put leftovers in the fridge even if you're waiting to ask Corinner-Elly what she wants to do with the remaining Hollandaise sauce.

I bet you're wondering why/how the BF puts up with this.
Truth is, so do I.

All I know is that he doesn't mind the anality so long as I give excellent back-rubs. I'm not saying the system is evenly weighted. But it work for us.