He always folds my clothes and puts my socks away. It's such an odd thing really, I am such a neat freak, but baskets of laundry elude me.
Oh sure, I can wash it, and dry it and fold it into baskets. I even take the baskets to our bedroom. Where they sit...for days. Ok, who am I kidding. Weeks.
Most times the clothes are worn directly from the basket. I clean around them, and vow to make time to put them away.
And so, my dear sweet fireman rescues me. He patiently puts the clothes away, and while sometimes he puts them in odd places (yoga pants do not go with dress suit pants, but I can understand the thinking) at least he puts them away.
Then for a few days, the baskets sit empty until I start the cycle again.
He never complains, and I often wonder what he thinks as he pairs my endless pile of socks, matching each one with great patience.
I can cook, I can bake, I can clean. But I can't put away laundry. Perhaps he is thinking that it's one thing he can deal with. Regardless, I love a drawer full of clean matching socks.
Some girls want flowers, but me? I want a man who folds laundry and puts it away.