But Somebody Has to Do It

Boss is not a neat person.

He starts out neat; I'll give him that.

But things catch up with him: the odd spill of jam on his shirt, the dribble of mustard on his lapel, the tint of ink on his fingers. The back seat of our car!

Not a slob, mind you. Slobs don't care. Boss cares. But as humans in twelve-step programs put it, he is powerless. Has no control over his life because of mess. It is fun to watch him try to cope with the mess in his room. Books. Student papers. Magazines. He does not have the eye for organization.

I am told his father had it.

When Boss says he has to get organized, I slip over to my cache, dig up a real bone or a Milk Bone, and get out of the way. He is not fit company when he is trying to be neat.