The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree

I'm learning a lot about myself since buying my house. Mostly that I'm more like both of my parents than I ever thought before. I've always known that I tend to be a lot like my dad in how I deal with things, but a quick look around the house tells me I've adopted neuroses from both sides.

The men on my dad's side of the family like to keep things in inventory; watches, lawnmowers, screwdrivers, you name it. Spare gutter parts, an extra towel bar, even an interesting piece of metal that might come in handy someday are already collecting dust in my garage. My inventory doesn't yet have the deepth and breadth of the items taking up space in my grandfather's basement, but if I don't get that tendency in check, I'll soon have a collection that would make Willie Habena proud.

We've always teased my mom about her inability to sit still and when I rented, I couldn't understand what she was possibly doing all of the time. Now I know. Either more dirt comes into the house now that I own it, or I actually care. NB: Black furniture shows dust like a black car shows dirt and red towels create a lot of red lint that shows up really well on white tile.

It could be worse. I could have inherited my grandfather's big ears.