that when I am putting clothes away in my husband's dresser, I find myself muttering half-said expletives as I refold t-shirts inexplicably balled up, re-arrange shirts and socks so appropriate colors can be found in pre-dawn darkness, and slam my fingers into overstuffed drawers that will not close but somehow did not contain clean socks this morning.
For the record, I am quite sure he has similar comments about my actions when they stray to his domain!
