I know I've blogged before about my husband, Dan, having Asperger's Syndrome (which is somewhere, but not quite, on the Autism Spectrum). It amazes me, when I hear the stories about him as a child and young adult, that no one ever thought his behavior was, you know, ODD.
(Dan wasn't diagnosed until I dragged his ass to a doctor in 2004 and said, "Will you please tell him he has Asperger's?" Which they did. Promptly. It was kind of like a "Duh" moment.)
One of the things he did, as a teen-ager and into his early 20s, was wear the same shirt every Friday, eat out of the same bowl, and drink out of the same cup... and use the same towel. They were his Friday shirt, his Friday bowl, his Friday cup, etc. I asked him one time why he did that and he said, "Because I really like Fridays."
(I may or may not find this so damn funny that I ask him about it a lot, just because it makes me laugh so hard. I may or may not be real sensitive and thoughtful like that. *cough*)
So let's flash forward 20 years or so to this morning:
Dan was getting ready for work and I was lying in bed with the two dogs and the covers pulled up to my nose. (It's cooooold outside today... I'M SO HAPPY!) Dan was rooting through his sock drawer and came up with a grand total of two socks, neither of which matched.
(Sidebar: There were only two mismatched socks, but at least 12 pairs of underwear were still in his drawer. I'm afraid to ask how that happened.)
Dan: "Did you do any laundry yesterday?"
Me: *guiltily, because I'm home all day and the fact that Dan doesn't have two socks that match is pretty embarrassing, considering he owns approximately 200 pairs* "No... sorry."
Dan: *very patiently, even though I have no good freaking excuse* "I don't have any socks."
Me: *because I'm a problem solver... it's what I do instead of laundry* "You wear work boots... just wear those socks. No one is going to see them."
Dan: *agreeably... which actually kind of shocked me, because if he's ever had a legitimate moment to bitch about me not doing laundry, this was it* "Okay."
He held up the socks and looked at them for a moment and said, "Well, isn't this going to be a special day."
Dan: "Because my socks don't match."
Me: *because I am that person who will beat something I find funny into the ground* "They can be your new Friday socks!"
Dan: *very seriously* "They can't be Friday socks."
Me: *trying very, very hard not to laugh* "Why can't they?"
Dan: *even more seriously* "They're not that special."
I give myself huuuuge amounts of credit for not laughing myself into a coma until AFTER he left.
I'm a giver, yo.