Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Day 32, June 20

One of the things menopausal women do is find things.  We find things, precious artifacts, for children who left home 2 decades ago.  We find things for ourselves (our failing memories mean we increasingly forget where we put things).  But, mostly, we find things for our husbands.

My husband is a fine man, a stalwart man, a faithful man.  But he can't find ANYthing.  Several nights ago, he called from the kitchen to me in the bedroom.

Husband:  "Where did you put the knives?" 

Me:  "They're on the counter."

Husband:  "No, they're not."

Me:  "Look."

Husband:  "They're not there."  A note of indignation has now entered his voice.

Me:  "They're on the counter.  Look to the left."  (They had been moved four inches to the left when a lady was helping me clean.)

Husband:  "Oh."  His voice assumes a defensive tone.  "Well, they weren't where they usually are."

This was an easily solved problem.  Others are not so easily put to rest.

Sorry. I've got to go.   I hear my beloved from the bedroom.  "Where did you HIDE my glasses?"


  1. My family teases me about having a bad memory. Really, I'm like a computer with a memory card that's been filled––by THEM! I have to remember where EVERYTHING is, so is it so surprising that on occasion, I forget something? After all, I still function more reliably than our desktop.

  2. This sound familiar.......I tell Boyd.....Look with your eyes open and like you really want to find it......I waiting for the day he asks where the refridgerator is!!