For years I pretended I was Martha Stewart/Donna Reed.
I folded David's underwear, sorted and paired his socks, separated everything and placed it neatly in the chest of drawers.
The way I folded the T shirts was thing of beauty. I was able to get dozens of them lined up just so in the drawer.
The socks were also lined up just so, sorted by color and type.
The briefs were folded just so...I wish I had a before picture to show you.
And even when David would dig through them and unfold/mess up everything, I would sigh deeply and straighten it all back out again. I was so proud of my Donna Reedness.
And then one day I had a moment of perfect understanding. This was a waste of time. This did not fill up David's love tank. He did not care whether the underwear was Donna Reed neat!! He only cared that it was clean and in the drawer. I was doing it for me. Not for him. I could save an untold amount of time by just dumping it all in the drawer.
And guess what? I did not have chest pain or apoplexy.