It took me a while, but I’ve learned a lesson. Lindsey and I speak different languages. It turns out we mean different things by the word “clean”.

Lindsey has a couple days off school, and today she got downright industrious in the house. When she texted me while I was at work she described her work as “cleaning”. When I got home I found out that it was much more than that.

She cleaned out closets, scrubbed things clean, re-decorated two rooms in part and more. I would not have called it cleaning, I would have called it something… I don’t know, something much more involved.

You see to me “clean” means, an absence of dirt, and a small amount of organization. Before Lindsey moved in I thought my house was, for the most part, clean. To Lindsey the word carries connotations of organization, sparkling floors, made beds, and well, a general sense of order. We’re clearly not on the same page yet.

So today I came home to a wonderfully “clean” home, in both senses of the word.

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