Men and Their Nuts

Not those nuts, geesh.  Mind out of the gutter, people.

I'm talking nuts...as in nuts and bolts, screws, washers, and other tiny, metal pieces that fall into the same category.  And end up scattered all over the house.  Well, my house anyway.  Mine apparently has a problem with his nuts, but I imagine there are other men who suffer from the same disease.

The arrival of my new dresser got me in the spirit of organization.  You know how it goes.  You get something new, something nice, and it prompts you to try to bring all of your old, not-so-nice stuff up to par to match the new addition.  Kind of like nesting while pregnant, same principle really when you think about it.

Anyway, I spent the last few evenings, little by little, cleaning out the closet and filling my new drawers with the items appropriate for dresser storage.  I cleaned all my perfume bottles and lined them up symmetrically in front of the mirror.  I went through the jewelry box and organized all that crap.  When I finished, the dresser looked beautiful.  And so damn out of place in the room.  

So, the aforementioned mood struck and I turned my attention to the rest of the bedroom.  It will still be old, mismatched furniture, but somehow cleaning and organizing it would make it fit better with my shiny new dresser.  I started with his nightstand, the top of which is usually a sea of half-empty diet Pepsi cans and...you guessed it...nuts.

I armed myself with an old baby food jar and collected the tiny pieces that were scattered among the rubble.  If I count the ones that rolled off at some point and ended up on the floor, I had four screws, seven nuts, six washers, and some other unknown tiny piece of metal in my jar.

I moved to the headboard of the bed.  Add two more washers, one screw, and a drill bit.  I hit the jackpot on his chest of drawers where I found four large bolts with anywhere from three to six nuts screwed on each, the largest items in my collection thus far.  I needed a bigger jar.

I headed for the kitchen.  I had already deposited a handful of such items on the counter the day before that I collected from the floor of the closet while cleaning.  A mere foot from my pile, two more washers were shining in the afternoon sun coming in through the skylight.

The kitchen window sill added more pieces, along with his bathroom counter, his computer desk, the entertainment center, the dryer, a glass vase in the dining room, and one lonely screw that I stepped on in the pantry.  Good grief.

His nuts are totally out of control, multiplying and dispersing themselves in every nook and cranny of our living space.  He has a work shed filled to the brim with like items but some apparently feel the need to migrate into our bedroom.  I have no idea why these tiny things need to be scattered all over the house, or what they've come from in the first place.  It's not like they need to be within arms reach at all times.  It's highly unlikely we'll ever have an emergency in the middle of the night that can be resolved with a single washer hanging out on the kitchen counter.  And besides, the tools are all out in the shed.  Go figure.