I am ruined

For years, decades really, I trucked along just fine and dandy. I was happy. Lazy, to be sure, but happy. 

Then Lee came along and ruined everything. 

You see, he's kind of a neat-freak. He's not an "OMG, there's a spot of dust on that thing. MUST CLEAN ALL THE THINGS" neat-freak. But he's one of those types that really needs to do the dishes before he can go to sleep at night. 

Which brings up to sleeping. And beds. Lee is very a much a Make the Bed Person. I was not. 

I'd roll out of bed, leave everything a crumpled mess and not think much about it. After all, it would only get messed up again that night. Why bother? 

Lee, however, makes the bed every day. Well, almost every day. On rare occasions it doesn't get made, usually due to the fact that there's a furry beast on it who glares at you if you try to move the blankets while she's sleeping. (She is very good at glaring and looking disdainful.) 

Now it bothers me when the bed is not made. I mean, it really bothers me. It bothers me enough that I've been making the bed a lot lately. I've probably made the bed more in the last year then I did in the previous ten. 

Thanks for ruining me, Lee. I guess this is payback for making it so that you can't eat Hamburger Helper anymore without feeling ill. (Homemade food for the WIN, you guys.)