Grounds for DI-vorce

According to one of the Petite Pain's cousins, her father should have been enshrined in the Pantheon for his wit.  Some people "got" the humor of his casual remarks.  Others didn't, perhaps because his comments were so brief, so wry, and so unexpected.   He never gave a clue that he was about to say something funny -- or had said something funny.  He never smiled, even when a particularly successful remark had sent several into a state of hysterics.  He simply said what he wanted to say and that was that.  At family dinners, half of us would explode with laughter at one of his one-liners while the other half would continue feasting as if nothing had been said.. (The Petite Pain suspects that one of the main reasons her parents stayed in love was that her mother laughed at her father's jokes.)  Alas, the comments really can't be repeated.  One had to be there.  However ....

The Petite Pain's father was not only funny in word but in deed as well.  The words were said with the intention to amuse, but the deeds probably weren't.  Happily, the deeds also amused the Petite Pain's mother.  What could well have been "grounds for divorce" were instead "reasons for laughing."
As just one example ....

The Petite Pain's father was a night owl.  Like others in the species, he did his "best work" in the wee hours of the morning.  After paying some bills or getting his time sheets sorted out, he'd wander into the kitchen for a snack.  And what would he find?  A disorganized kitchen.  The pans were where the plates should be.  The glasses were where the bowls should be.  Staples weren't where they should be.  And the condiments?  Where were the condiments?  Every six weeks to two months, he'd have about five free hours in the middle of the night.  What a bonanza!  He could spend those five hours reorganizing the executive chef's  kitchen.  (There you have it -- grounds for divorce.)  After reorganizing the kitchen, he could squeeze in a nap before he'd have to get up to reorganize corporations.

While the Petite Pain and her mother slept, the organizer switched everything, absolutely everything around.  He'd draw a massive and meticulous diagram of all the shelves and drawers in the cabinets on the back of a sheet of columnar paper, the kind that accountants use, the very largest size.  Then, he'd write the new locations of all the stuff he'd switched around.  His handwriting was so tiny, he could fit in every item.  His handwriting was also legible with the aid of a magnifying glass.  Yes, what you think is coming next is coming next.

When the Petite Pain and her mother got up the next morning, the organizer would be taking his nap, probably snoring in bliss..  The new diagram would be spread out on the kitchen table.  Next to the diagram would be the magnifying glass.  Since this sight was so familiar,  the two knew what the next few weeks would be like.  Everything would get  really exciting at dinner time.  The Petite Pain's mother would be a tad frantic because she couldn't find anything.  She'd open and shut cupboards and drawers with abandon while she cooked.   The Petite Pain stood at the ready, prepared to scan the diagram for something the chef needed.  "Quick!  I need the colander.  Where is it?"  The Petite Pain would make every effort to be a speedy searcher, and usually, she succeeded. When she simply could not find the new location, the chef and her helper waited for the organizer to get home from his day of reorganizing.  Then the chef cooked, the Petite Pain and her father searched and found, and all three had a grand time laughing.  Why would any sensible organizer put ice cube trays next to the stove?  Not once did the chef look the organizer coldly in the eye and ask, "Are you out of your mind?"  He was, of course, quite out of us mind.  And how lucky the Petite Pain and her mother were to live with him!

Then, just when everyone knew where everything was the organizer would strike again..