No, it's not some Bluebeard thing where I'm now going to be killed by my husband for trespassing on his private realm. It's just incredibly messy. Only I cannot tell him that without him getting all defensive. He lacks time to organize blah blah blah... and I'm all, well, dude, that's why it's messy, right? I'm not making personal judgments here, I'm not saying you're a bad person, I'm just sayin' the office is a death trap and someday you won't be able to find me because I'm buried under the gazillion printouts of EU laws and statutes.
He tried to "organize" the other day by trying to get rid of old research on grinding stones. Ha ha, very funny, trying to "clean" by telling the archaeologist in the house that you are going to throw out old ARCHAEOLOGY RESEARCH! That shit is so not happening. He is apparently not going to part with all the journals, reports and newspaper articles regarding harbor projects in northern Germany.
Not that I'm making value judgments here. Oh no. But if it crushes the life from this very proportional and damn sexy body - WHO'S GOING TO WISH HE'D JUST LISTENED TO HIS WIFE??
So once again we are left with the problem of not enough book shelves
Meanwhile, in the living room....
Can you see how this will end? In tears, every time.
And thus we now know that we will never be able to live in one of those cute little 17th century homes with low ceilings. Because he just does not remember to duck.
If you duck through that little door, you find yourself in...
I find it rather amusing that the tall man has to go through the short door to get to his office. But that is just how it is. He has an office at work, so he doesn't really need all that much office space at home. Or so
That door leads to my office, and yes, it is a normal sized door. When he remembers, he goes through my office.
We've now made it one quarter of the way through my house!
Sweet Mary mother of god, my house is too damn big.