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?"

2 comments:

  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.

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  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!!

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