Between the two of us, Spencer is by far the more organized human. It's a wonder he hasn't sat me down for an intervention. Without a doubt, like six minutes after Spencer walks through the door, the entire apartment is spotlessly clean. And I'm not talking good-job-hiding-everything-under-the-bed clean, I mean really, legitimately, clean.
Suddenly everything has a place. The mail I carelessly threw onto the table is stacked neatly and set aside. The shoe pile by the front door has been cut in half. The burp cloths that scattered the floor are in the washing machine. The dishwasher is going, the throw blanket and pillows are nicely placed on the couch, and that random piece of lint I've been meaning to pick up all day is nowhere to be seen. Were you to walk into the apartment after Spencer got home, you would have no choice but to think that I had been slaving all day, Cinderella style, with a feather duster in one hand and a bottle of 409 in the other. In reality, I've been sitting on the couch watching every episode of Cake Boss. Whoops.
And now, because every blog post needs a picture, here are my boys watching some Office before bedtime stories. Those noses, right? Identical.