Monday, September 6, 2010

This Happens in My House Every Day

I have never been able to figure out if Teh Hubby really can't see the mayonnaise in the fridge, the remote on the table, the garlic powder in the spice rack, the socks in the sock drawer, the dental floss in the bathroom drawer, and the dog leash on the special hook next to the basement door that we installed together, or if he's just fucking with me.

If it is the latter, epic poems will be memorized by schoolchildren for centuries to come based loosely upon the events in my house in the 12 hours after I find that out.


  1. You know, I was just reading Beowulf yesterday. Do you picture yourself as more of a Beowulf or more of a Grendel's Mother type?

  2. Me? I'd be a whole lot happier if I believed he was just fucking with me. (Hey, I'd probably even dance a jig if I could blame his behavior on an honest-to-goodness ophthalmological problem... not that I'm hoping it's that, but at least it would be something to wrap my brain around and deal with, you know?)

    Instead, I'm firmly convinced I married an idiot. Crap. :P

  3. You're sure that you're not married to my son? Really?

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  6. @ DM: LITHIUM, man, take your LITHIUM! You'll feel so much better!

    I'm a guy, I know I'm clueless, but I can, in fact, find things after I've put them down... well, there was one notable exception...

    My father died in 1997, and the half of his ashes that weren't buried in Arlington are in a container on our credenza. This is because the family, at some point, wanted to take these and scatter them at one of his favorite local spots where he lived at one time. This has yet to occur.

    I am a musician, and I do arrangements. I seem to have taken over the dining room, and my wife became, well, vexed with this situation.
    I was invited to a lot of arranging, arrange my music out of the dining room, and get things back where they were.

    Being clueless, but still able to catch a clue, I complied.

    A few months later I noticed that something was...missing.
    Wife asked why I was going about with a pensive, concerned look for a couple of days and wife inquires as to the reason.
    I said to my wife, "I've lost my father".

    She says, "I know he died years ago, but sometimes it doesn't hit you, really..."
    "No, I cant find the ashes container".

    She stood, literally agog. Incredulity and horror infused expression and tone:

    "You LOST your FATHER"??!!

    Then came the wifely admonitions, reproach, rebuke, and reproof. "Hopelessness: was several times cited, both of the situation, and myself.

    Yes, we did find the container, my fathers remains are back on the credenza, and I am forbidden to touch them even to dust.

    Car keys? Remotes? Pshaw. say I, pshaw! I expectorate on scrofulous keys, I micturate on the puny remote...if you're gonna not find something, go BIG!

  7. Oh, I know the feeling, PF. My husband is the same. And it looks as though my son is going to take after him, oh joy...

    [looks up, yawns] Boring troll is boring. (Not you, Sarge!)

  8. My Dad's like that, but then he's *extremely* auditory. (Want to make sure he can't get anything done? Turn on music, or put on something with people talking in the next room.) I, on the other hand, spent a fair amount of my childhood looking in the places he had already looked, and very often finding whatever we were looking for right there.

  9. Oh, I've been on the recieving end, too.

    One of our young men (then a fourteen year old) gave one to me.

    Our civil war reenactment had been camped for a local "living history" event, and there was all sorts of detritis falling onto our tents. We have a broom in our equipment, but since it is "farby" (ie: not period)it must reside in one of the vehicles.
    It was picked because it was electric blue and would, thus, be easy to find.
    Hah! That's how much WE knew about it!

    I gave the young man the keys to the van and sent him after the broom and some other items necessary for tear-down, and I said, "I bet he comes back without it". The van was several blocks away, and we watched, and sure enough, he is coming back sans the broom.
    So, I met him half way, and he is intoning, "It isn't IN there! I looked! It isn't there"!
    I took the keys, walked up, to the van, and, lo, laying in plain sight is the broom.
    I walked back, and I could see the lad. He was displaying signs of dismay and discomfort visible from blocks away.

    When I was yet afar, I could hear him saying, "It wasn't THERE! It wasn't THERE"!
    I got back, cut through his protestations, asking did he think I'd galloped off to the Lighthouse for the Blind and had themn run one up special, and distress it, all in fiftteen minutes, to prove him wrong? That I'd taken a strong dose of exlax and defecated it?
    I gave it to him, pointed to the tents, said, "Get busy", and as soon as he left had to laugh.

    Maybe it IS a guy-thing?

  10. I swear to you, Sarge, that's exactly what it's like at my house.

    "Why don't we have mayonaisse?!"

    I walk over to the fridge, pull it out from the front of the eye level shelf.

    "Where's the remote?!"

    On the coffee table, alone, directly in front of you.

    Seriously, I'm waiting for him to ask me where his eyes are next.

  11. LOL, hilarious. This chart so describes my girlfriend and me. I'm the one who finds everything, especially things my gf "loses" in plain slight.

  12. Thus proving that it isn't a guy thing, it's that if two people are in a relationship, one of them must become functionally blind.

  13. yeah - we BOTH lose things. it's sort of hilarious, really - Pete can never find his glasses on his forhead, i can never find my meds on my table - but we can find what the other lost!

    so it works. mostly.


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