Let me make a confession. I’m a slob. Ask anyone. Well, maybe not anyone. Just my wife.
She’ll point to my nightstand as prima facie evidence that I’m a proponent of slobbishness. I bet you didn’t even know there was such a word. You see, my nightstand bears no resemblance whatsoever to her nightstand, which is as stately and majestic as St. Peter’s Basilica.