School days

I've decided that since we can more or less function in our house, I need to pace myself with getting things settled house-wise and get a routine established. (I am seriously like a toddler...I need a routine to be happy.)

We started school Monday, Mark and me. Mark and I used to share a table in our old school room. (It was Jill's table and now it's been promoted to our kitchen table...when we use it I think fondly of Jill.)  Mark never liked sharing a table with me. I'm messy. I stack and spread out and clutter. He would slide his arm across his half of the table every morning, pushing my detritus to my side.

I told him in our new school room, he'd get his own desk. And I'd have my own desk. He was thrilled. I'm sure his desk will always be as neat as a pin and mine will not.

Our school room is a small little bedroom that I think will be lovely once it's all set up. I have put all my craft type stuff in there too. So far, the room is sort of a disaster area. I set it up just enough that we can have school. I figured I could work more on it while Mark did school assignments. One problem is my desk. The legs are in the room and the desktop is in the room. The hardware is...somewhere. Somewhere lovely, I'm sure, but it's not doing us much good desk-wise.

For this reason, Monday morning there were a few things piled on Mark's desk.

He stood in front of the desk, surveying it. He started muttering:

"You'll have your own desk, they said."

"Your mom won't put her stuff on it, they said."

I quickly moved the stuff. "There," I said, "I won't put things on your desk."

He sat down, satisfied.

He's such a turkey. I am glad to be back to school; I missed the dailiness of school with him.  He's a turkey, but he's my turkey and the time we spend together is a priceless treasure. I know how fast time moves and I'll never regret this precious time with my sarcastic and passive aggressive red head.