She leaned back, took a long look around, and sighed in satisfaction.
He’d love it. She was sure he would.
It took three full weeks and dozens of hours, but now every piece of paper he’d ever owned was alphabetized and catalogued. The photos organized by color, location, and main character. The receipts tagged and ranked by preference: favorite things first, the things he’d never order again, last.
He was due home by nightfall. She could only imagine his delight.
The office was transformed. So was the garage. She even organized the nets and oar for an artistic touch. Bronzed all his mementos so they matched.
No more desk and drawers. No more folders. No more boxes with a mishmash of photos and cards. Goodbye to letters stacked together by arbitrary designations of correspondence, when they could be more logically sorted by zip code (or when there was none noted, ordered alphabetically by addressee’s given name and divided by paper-type).
It had been a Herculean task, but she was undaunted. Who but her would take it on to help him out?
She couldn’t wait to show him how she’d got him all caught up.