Now, when she walked into the dining room and looked at the table and saw what I was up to, she muttered something about "obsessive" and "compulsive" and I think I may have heard the word "disorder", but it was anything but disorderly. She rolled her eyes when I said that I thought the spools of thread were beautiful. She always kept the spools on their ends, but as luck would have it, they also fit neatly on their sides.
"It's like a puzzle," I explained.
"You need medication!" she retorted.
"Pfffttt. Nuh uh."