"Well, there's some music that's just downright shitty. Dubstep, for example. I have yet to wrap my mind around that," he replied, shaking his head. "I know that'll probably earn me at least a hundred 'old and crotchedy' points, but shit just sounds like a construction site to me."
He blinked, looking completely oblivious about his complete lack of organizational skills. "I put them in the folder, didn't I?" He sounded genuinely curious as to how he could have handled his things more efficiently. Emerson had been fairly tidy growing up, but in the decade since his parents' death, he'd sort of let those skills fall to the wayside. If not for Gretchen, he probably wouldn't have had consistently clean laundry for the duration of his early, adult years.
"You're starting off on the right foot then with the music, though," he added. "Gretchen listens to a thrilling mix of polka and the occasional country western ballad, and I haven't heard Lucien's tastes, though I sort of cringe as I imagine what he might listen to."