Married to the Slob

When I met my husband, it was love at first sight. For him – not me. I couldn’t stand him. That right there should have clued me into the fact that we were soulmates. But I was blind, partially because I was dating someone else at the time.

The romance blossomed when he walked me to my car one night, as we were leaving the same place at the same time. Everything about him annoyed me. Even his shoes annoyed me. I could barely look at him, he was so annoying. I don’t know why, exactly, because he was just acting normal, but whatever.

He really swept me off my feet when he happened to bump into a group of us one day when were hanging out at the beach. We were all lying around, trying to tan every spare inch of our bodies, when he stopped by to say hi. Except, he didn’t say hi to me. He didn’t even acknowledge me! Seriously, I wanted to strangle him.

Since I didn’t want to end up in jail for murder, I did the next best thing and married him. Serves him right. I’m gonna make him pay for the rest of his life.

The second I broke up with the previous boyfriend, our mutual friends coerced me into going out on a date with my husband. When they found out that I was on the market again, they started bombarding me with lies like, “Oh, he’s so nice,” and “He’s really handsome!” After they realized I wasn’t falling for their propaganda, they started threatening me. Maybe my friends were Communists. Or maybe they really hated me and wanted to have a good laugh at my expense. In the end, I agreed to date him because I found out he had a nice car, and he loved his dog.

Our first date turned out surprisingly well. In honor of Pesach, we both enjoyed rice-free sushi at the local non-kosher sushi restaurant. The next night we ate vegan Indian takeout. Non-gebrokts, yo. As I wrote in The Look of Love, on that second date, I fell in love with him and decided that he would be the one I would torture for the rest of his life marry.

One week into our relationship, when I felt sure enough of my status as future wife, I took the liberty of going through his apartment and getting rid of all of his clutter. I love getting rid of junk; at least stuff that I think is junk – which isn’t really always junk. And of course I didn’t ask his permission.

So one day, when I was hanging out at his apartment, he walked over to me with a watch in his hand. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to, darling, but by mistake, you threw out my watch,” he said, his voice dripping with infatuation and thinly disguised annoyance. I looked at him. I looked at the watch. “It wasn’t a mistake,” I replied, without a hint of apology in my voice. “Your watch is ugly.”

“Ugly? Ugly?! It’s a very expensive watch that goes with my heart monitor for my spinning classes!” Well, there goes the infatuation. “What do you need it for? You don’t even take spinning classes!” It’s amazing that in just one week, I assumed I knew everything about his life. “Look, babe, it’s not like you’re so svelte. Trust me – the watch won’t make a difference.” I don’t remember what happened after that, but I can safely assume we had a fight. Our first fight – how romantic!

Well, it turns out that I was right. I love those words, so I’ll type them again. I was right. I WAS RIGHT. R-I-G-H-T. I could write that all day. He hadn’t taken a spinning class in like 10 years. So what was he doing holding on to that watch? And the two Chinese restaurant waiter outfits? What in the world were those? Was he the phantom seventh member of The Village People?

All in all, I had to get rid of about 30 years of accumulated junk. Okay, so maybe future hubby thought that most of it wasn’t junk, but I wasn’t listening. I was up to my ears in junk and couldn’t hear his protests. I felt so much better afterward. Now, there was plenty of room in his closet for my junk. And my 38 pairs of shoes. I don’t understand why he put up with me. Maybe because I was really, um, pretty.

15 years later, we’re still having the same kind of argument, though thank God, not as frequently. Since I officially run the house now, I go through stuff all the time and make sure the clutter doesn’t build up. But, every so often, I see a collection of crumpled up receipts, loose change, and other odds and ends clogging up my side of the closet. What can I say? I’m married to the slob.

He’s not really a slob, per se. He just doesn’t like to throw stuff away. Thank God, I’m here to help him fix that. And so is Sara Yosef, author of the awesome book, It’s All in Your Mind. She explains that clutter actually clogs the pipes of spiritual abundance.

When people can’t get rid of stuff they don’t use anymore, and won’t have a need for in the foreseeable future, it is because they lack emuna. They don’t believe that Hashem can or will give them what they need, when they need it. As a result, they hold onto things, “just in case…”

When we hold onto stuff that we don’t need, we are actually weighing ourselves down. Think about how clutter makes you feel. Doesn’t it feel heavy and somewhat suffocating? Sara Yosef explains that many times, people don’t receive the abundance that Hashem wants to give them, simply because there is no room for it!

Getting rid of your unnecessary stuff not only makes you feel better and lighter; it makes room for all of the gifts that Hashem is waiting to give you! So by all means, read the book, and start clearing out space for more blessings in your life! Just don’t be sendin’ any of yo’ junk to my house…

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Feel free to send Racheli your questions, particularly in the areas of marriage, dating, child-rearing and women's role; write her at racheli@breslev.co.il