When my husband asked, “Where did you hide my black socks?”
I replied, “I thought they were mine. I put them in the hall closet. That’s where I always put them.”
He immediately went to investigate. Sure enough, nothing was there.
He arrived back, hands on his hips, saying, “Stop messing with me.”
What is wrong with this man? I took him by the hand and led him to his chest of drawers. When I opened the top right drawer, there was a black sock bonanza in there.
“See?” I asked, with a sassy edge.
“You told me they were in the hall closet, Anne.”
“What? Who puts socks in the hall closet? I would never have said that.” He must be losing his mind.
He continued to insist I did indeed tell him that.
Last week, I went to the store to buy steel cut oatmeal. Scott requested it special because it takes longer to digest and keeps you full longer. It made perfect sense to me. When I got home, I unpacked the bags. He asked, “Did they have my steel oats?” I looked at my list and sure enough, steel oats was the third item. I pulled Cream of Wheat out of the bag. “Here you go,” I said with joy. “This will fill you up.”
“Steel Oats are not Cream of Wheat! It’s even on the list.” He was right. I don’t know how he confused the two. I plainly heard him say Cream of Wheat while I wrote Steel Oats. It’s a good thing I have a photographic memory.
This morning, he asked his usual question, “Have you seen my keys, wallet and glasses?” I’d just sat down with my perfectly brewed cup of coffee. “Your glasses are with your wallet and keys,“ I told him.
“And where might that be?” he asked.
“Honestly, I have no idea.” Just then something pinched my rump. I was sitting on his keys.
Always the opportunist, I asked if he might give a reward for these items before I surrendered the key ring. Ten minutes later, I had a key ring imprint on my rump and he was still searching the house. I held firm waiting for the reward.
“Fine, I’ll give you $10 if you find them,” he said.
“If I find what?” I asked.
“My keys, glasses and wallet!” he yelled.
“Oh, I think I saw them in my sock drawer. Do not disturb the drawer. They’re breeding making more socks for you this morning.” I giggled. He did not find it amusing.
“Fine!” I pulled the keys out from under my rump. “I’ll take the $10 bill now,” I said smugly.
“That was $10 for all three! Do you think I’m a rich man???” he blubbered.
I yanked they keys back. I will not do investigative work for $3.33!” I grouched back at him.
“Look, I have a scar from sitting on your damn keys!”
“You had them all this time?” he asked. “Why didn’t you just give them to me?”
“I was holding out for a higher reward,” I replied honestly.
“Here! Take $20. I’ll go find my other things.”
“Your glasses are on your head. Your wallet is sticking out of your back left pocket,” I announced as I folded the fresh bill.
“Now sit down and have a bowl of steel oats,” I smiled at him like a good wife.
He ate every bit of his Cream of Wheat and pronounced, “I’m full!”
Today I’m going shopping for a new pair of pants for him. He wears a 36” waist.
Or wait…am I going for a new bra for me? I wear a 36” long.
Maybe I’ll buy both.
Some days I wish it all made sense.
— Anne Bardsley
Anne Bardsley lives in St Petersburg, Florida, with her “wrinkle maker” of a husband and two spoiled cockatoos. She’s still recovering from raising five children. She is so happy she didn’t strangle them as teenagers as they’ve given her beautiful grandchildren. She is the author of How I Earned My Wrinkles: Musings on Marriage, Motherhood and Menopause and Angel Bumps. She blogs at www.annebardsley.com.