I have no idea why this is. T1, T2, and C all seem to hold to the idea that you are defeating the purpose of a door, cabinet, drawer or toothpaste top if you close them.
A quick survey of the house, done just before I sat down, revealed the pantry door open in the kitchen and the dishwasher door cracked. The family room closet door is open. Downstairs three of T2’s toy drawers are open, the hall closet door is open and both the front door and the door to the garage are unlocked (but closed, at least). T1 has four out of six drawers open in his room. His radio and the lamp in there are also still on but, insofar as I can tell, he isn’t aware either of those turn off. T2 has six of nine drawers open. The boys bathroom has the toothpaste sitting out and open. Also, and this isn’t technically closing a door, but there are clothes all over their bathroom floor despite- and this is not an exaggeration- a good 1/4th of the floor space being taken up by a hamper. It takes more effort to miss it than it does to hit it and yet…it’s almost always empty. This is good though, as the layer of clothes soak up the water. T2 doesn’t close the shower curtain when he is in there. C and I’s room, blessedly, only has one open dresser drawer (hers). A totally forgivable number.
I’m not anal retentive, by any means. Honestly. This complete lack of closure doesn’t bother me. I just find it interesting. You’d think that this speaks to an inability to finish things, but that isn’t the situation in anyone here’s case, at least not any more than is usual. It’s apparently just a genetic inability to latch anything.
And I’ve got my own stuff going on.
They (whoever they are) also say that when God closes a door he opens a window. I’ve never actually understood this saying, as often a window can’t provide the same usage I need out of my doors. Thanks a lot for the window, God, but I’m on the fifth floor. But anyway, in our house, it’s me and not God opening windows. I like both light and a light breeze, so I walk around the house opening blinds, turning on lights and opening windows. C would get cold on the sun side of Mercury, so she hates this. T1 doesn’t mind it but T2 sides with his mother, occasionally wrapping himself in a blanket and plopping down on the couch to glare at me. To be fair, it does get a little brisk in here sometimes.
As I am with doors, C is with lights. Just as I patrol the house closing things, she roams around turning them off. Often, she doesn’t bother with checking to see if anyone is in the room she is plunging into darkness. As with the windows, T1 sides with me (hence the ever burning lamp in his room) and T2 sides with his mom. T2 will insist that we eat dinner by candlelight. T2 would live in a cave if the cave had electricity. Sometimes I call him Smeagol, both because he does an awesome impression of Gollum from the Lord of the Rings movies and because, like Gollum, he’d be fine with going for decades without seeing the sun.
Weirdly, the one light in the house I always turn off is the one in C and my bedroom. Likewise, our bedroom door is the one door in the house that C will consistently close. The victim of this reversal of norms is our dog, Starbuck. Starbuck spends 75% of any given day asleep on our bed, which means very often, when she wants to do something with the 25% of the day she is awake, she is trapped in our bedroom.
She is completely comfortable though, because the window I left open assures the room is light and breezy.