Books around our house

Every morning I walk around the house and pick things up. The husband and the boys will have left dishes on the coffee table, shoes in the living room, clothes on the couch, toys on the floor, and books-books-books all over. I know I shouldn’t have to do this – especially the husband should be able to put his own stuff away – but I’m sure I’m not the only woman in the world who does this, and the fact is, that if I don’t, the house would quickly turn into a disaster, which I can’t stand. Although a few things here and there probably wouldn’t hurt us, I know from experience that those fifteen minutes every morning are necessary to prevent hours of cleaning and sorting every week. So I pick up.

When I came downstairs yesterday, things weren’t so bad, but a couple of books had been left on the coffee table, and I couldn’t help but smile when I thought of how representative they looked of what goes on here at night; William is learning to read, and my husband is a philosophy professor.