Even if I don't consider Los Angeles to be home yet, it feels good to come back to my own clean apartment, my own messes on the floor (Christmas wrapping remnants, gifts that still need to be given, my stationery messes - pens, highlighters, paperclips...).
As soon as Robby comes home, he'll be adding his own messes to our home: clothes strewn all over the bedroom floor; pants, instead of folded and put away, lying on the ground as if he just took them off (they wait to be put on again); dirty clothes next to the laundry basket because he missed; tags that have been torn off of clothing on the floor.
But I must admit that most of the messes in communal areas are mine: half-read newspapers, a New Yorker article in the middle of being read, clips and hair rubberbands tosses on tables, cards from siblings and children's drawings... Yeah, most of it's mine.
Robby leaves his messes on the floor and I put mine on tables. I guess we go about things different. Complementary, isn't it? It means that we never fight for space!
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