The Odd Couple
Oscar to the left and Felix to the right
Stealing a phrase from a friend of mine - 'we have a situation' at my house. I live with Felix and Oscar. The Odd Couple. For those of my age and older, you completely understand to whom I am referring. For those who are younger and confused, check Wikipedia.
This relationship has existed for some time, but has escalated over the last year. Post-marriage, Garrett and I have begun spending our weekends with each other's kids and with more overall time in Omaha. Although the result has been a culture shock to both Ben and Garrett, it has been no surprise to me. Most say merging families in remarriage is hard on the kids. The truth is that it is harder on the step-parents.
Let me just throw out the core of the issue. Ben is a train wreck.
This assertion is not a surprise to those who have known him his whole life. As a forever-smiling toddler, when asked his name, he would say, "I'm Benny, and I'm a train wreck!"
Out of the mouths of babes. Obviously, he overheard a comment or two from his parents.
Fast forward 15 or so years, and not much has changed. Ben understands his organizational style, but I do not. I see piles of clothes on the floor, uncertain of what’s clean and what’s dirty, and hear frequent and frantic shuffling as he searches for lost keys. Ben's typical answer is "It's all good, Mom. I know where my stuff's at, and I like it that way."
Over the years, I have set the 'Benny bar' for home tidiness lower than my own. In the long run, it has been a concession well worth it, at least in my estimation.
And then Garrett entered the picture.
In his defense, Garrett saw the obvious. Things I often ignored. Shoes were left in the middle of the floor. Dishes from days prior suddenly appeared in mounds in the sink. And Ben’s bathroom...oh my.
I quickly realized I had a Felix-and-Oscar situation on my hands. I am sure my tidy, military-like husband felt his world turned upside down as well.
Garrett's world is full of routine and careful planning. Every pair of shoes has its place, and a missing shirt in his closet would be noticed by his watchful eye on the same day of the disappearance. I appreciate his tidy ways as I gravitate to these same habits. Together, we are quite the team with an organized garage and a carefully loaded dishwasher.
In defense of both my messy son and organized husband, they typically co-exist very well, as any good roommates should. Only the extreme will push Garrett over the edge. An example would be Ben adopting two guinea pigs on a Sunday last March, then leaving them at our house and returning to college that same night. George and Randy continue to live in a cage in our garage to Garrett's complete chagrin.
But the best story of late is about a pair of jeans. My apologies to both of my housemates, as this story still makes me laugh, and I can't resist sharing.
Here is some background to help you better understand my humor.
Garrett typically wears jeans by day. He keeps about four pairs at our Omaha home and cycles them through the week. When he does laundry, without exception, he pulls his jeans out of the washer and carefully drapes them on the banister outside the laundry room. For about twenty-four hours, the jeans air-dry with a perfect crease down the front. When the drying cycle is complete, Garrett folds them and puts them away.
This is his jeans routine.
Also, note that Garrett takes very good care of his belongings. Maintenance logs are kept for major purchases, and items such as clothes and shoes are carefully selected and well-maintained.
And then there is my Benny.
He believes in quantity over quality. A huge fan of Goodwill and online shopping for used jerseys, he has a great variety in his daily attire. His clothing choice depends most on what lies on the floor closest to him when he wakes. This routine has often failed Ben when daily clothing choices are limited by school (uniforms) or work (dress code). Disaster ensues when he can't locate his required wear in the spare minutes he has in the morning.
This was the case a few weeks ago.
After hearing Ben's alarm and no movement, I sent a text to my middle child, who was obviously not up. Within minutes, I could hear Ben scrambling down the hall. The sound of running footsteps, with background shuffling, was the first indication that something had gone missing in Ben's life. I wrongfully assumed it was his keys.
Ben's summer job with the county maintenance crew gets him out of bed early. He works full-time mowing grass at parks and ditches, filling potholes with asphalt, trimming trees, etc. You get the picture. Wearing jeans to cover his legs is a job requirement.
Now back to Garrett's jeans. Post-Ben departure, Garrett noticed something amiss in the hallway.
Every morning, Garrett prepares a cup of coffee for me to start my day. On his route up the stairs with a coffee mug in hand, Garrett noticed that the two pairs of jeans he had put out to dry the night before were now down to one.
"Where did my jeans go?"
Garrett's words, not the smell of coffee, brought me to full-awake mode. Remembering Ben running through the hallway earlier, and his requirement to wear jeans to work each day, I sent Ben a text.
“Where are Garrett’s jeans?”
His response came when I was out of the room and was seen first by Garrett, who had just come out of the shower. In shock, Garrett read Ben's answer back to me.
"I may have put them on…”
“What? DID HE SERIOUSLY WEAR MY JEANS TO WORK?" was Garrett's exasperated response. And then I did the unthinkable. I got the giggles. The situation was so bad, it was funny. Only Ben.
Garrett wasn't pleased. Both at Ben for taking his jeans and at me for my response. But in the end, Garrett gets the 'stepfather of the year' award for ultimately keeping his cool. We all survived, including the jeans. And Ben apologized to Garrett later. Kumbaya by dinner time.
I have noticed that, as of late, Garrett’s jeans haven't been left to dry on the outside banister. It appears that he has moved his preferred drying spot to our bedroom closet. And Ben is still having problems finding his work jeans in the morning. Yesterday, I noticed him wearing a 'fancy' pair with a tapered ankle style as he ran to his car to leave for work. Finding the selection odd, I questioned him about where they came from.
"Oh....I couldn't find my work jeans. I found these in Grant's closet. I think they are from 8th grade."
Noticing the two-inch gap between ankle and foot, his story made perfect sense to me. My worry then moved to his socked feet, with hopes that he had boots in mounds piled in the back seat of his car.
I do love my Felix and Oscar. They bring spice to our lives and make me smile every day. As I often remind myself, life would be boring if we were all the same.
