How I Annoy My Husband: Losing and Misplacing Things at Our House
At least twenty times each day I ask Paul the following,
“Have you
seen my phone?” or less frequently,
“Have you
seen my (insert anything smaller than a kitchen table.)
Paul has
stopped helping me look for my misplaced items.
Maybe he has faith in me to find them, or maybe he’s just tired of helping
me look. I’d like to think it’s the
former, but I’m guessing it’s the latter.
When I find
the lost item, I usually ask,
“What’s it
doing over there?”
More
disturbingly, I sometimes ask,
“What are you doing over there?”
I fully expect
an answer and also assume the object has moved itself to a place I would never put
it. So far, I’ve received no answers,
but I might one day.
I have found
my cell phone in such unlikely places as on top the clothes dryer, on the
bathroom counter, in the linen closet and in the refrigerator (was I waiting
for a “cold call?”) It’s also been sitting
innocently on my tall dresser, on the bed--both under and on top of clean or
dirty clothes. Luckily it’s never been in the oven or the microwave that I know
of. I can only assume it’s because my phone, although mischievous, doesn’t have
a death wish.
Here is some
background on my long history of losing things.
As a child, I spent weekends at my Dad’s house. When I lost something
he’d say, “It’s where you left it.” I
didn’t respond or tell him my theory about items moving themselves and he
didn’t waste energy helping me look.
At my
Mother’s house, I was the designated finder of lost things. She’d say, “Elyse,
can you help me find my (insert object)?”
Maybe since it wasn’t my item, I was able to calmly find her lost object. And I knew her items didn’t move themselves
since only mine did that.
But I digress. Back at my house with
Paul, for some reason he can find
things when he loses them. This annoys me and maybe since he can easily find
his things, he has less patience for my problem finding lost things.
He will say,
“Have you seen my glasses?”
Not five
seconds later, he’ll say, “Oh they’re on the Dr. Seuss table.”
The Dr. Seuss table is the adorably lop-sided table my daughter made in college from exactly 100 pieces of wood.
When I asked Paul “What else do I
lose?” he gave me a long list of items I forgot about: keys, handkerchief, mug,
the TV remote, and glasses.
About those
glasses, after I lost them a few weeks ago, Paul actually helped me look for
them. Maybe because I hadn’t lost them before or because they are expensive and
I was particularly frantic about finding them. We searched the car’s front and
back seats, the floor, the glove box and even the trunk. I checked my jacket
pockets, desk drawers and all surfaces in the house. Finally I realized I’d dropped them on a long
hike we’d taken the proceeding weekend.
We discussed how the person finding them might leave them on the side of
the path or on a fence, near the bathrooms, or on a sign. We decided to return to the scene of the
crime and retrace our steps on the two hour hike.
Before we
drove back that weekend, I happened to reach under my computer stand on my desk
and not one inch away from the glasses case sat the offending glasses! It was a miracle! Paul rolled his eyes of
course.
I lose gross
things like my handkerchief. Paul finds
them gross anyway. I believe I am being a good citizen by not using tissues and
killing trees. I use colorful bandanas
that are unfortunately too big to fit in my pocket, so I leave them in a
prominent place like the arm of the couch, the kitchen table or counter, or on
my bed. Naturally, I can’t remember where I left them. I ask Paul,
“Have you
seen my handkerchief?”
“No, and I
definitely won’t help you look for it.”
Paul has
recently made a good suggestion. “Why
don’t you leave one handkerchief in
every room?”
