a place for everything and everything in its place

It's 12:16 am, do you know where your reciprocating saw is? Mr. Ihrig has it and he's rocking the home improvements at our place. My basement storage room is now really a storage room. He's gone and shelved floor to ceiling. No longer are my holiday wreaths strewn about hither and yon, but hanging out of the way, ready for next year. He's been nesting like an expectant mother for days! Don't even get me wrong, I am the luckiest girl I know! It's just that a moment ago, I took a break from writing to look for some lost pictures, (see three days from now,) I 'round the corner to continue my post, and what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a Mr. Ihrig on a ladder in the front hall with a paint roller in his hand. It's 1:17 am. He is micro-focused now. I don't even say a word, but "wow, shug!" He has been nonstop for days. At this rate, he could go all night. He hasn't even cracked open a diet coke. In fact, his zest for organizational chi has inspired me to change my blog palette. I'm going for minimalist, here. It reminds me of what Mr. Ihrig's dream home would look like:
I vetoed this look years ago because I could never visualize a baby in this setting, just sushi and adults. It's really beautiful, though. In fact, I need to give big ups to Henry's taste. He has always been the visionary in our relationship. Even now, I'm siding with him on the marble tile debate for our downstairs bathroom. Whatever is driving him, (turing 40 on Tuesday) I like it. He is constantly making me happy.