Husband can't find his keys. This is unusual, because unlike many, many of his other things, he always keeps his keys in the same place. Although, occasionally he'll put his keys next to something he doesn't want to forget, like his gym bag or a letter that needs to be mailed. Seems like a handy little memory trick. He stands next to the key holder our daughter made in shop class (yes, I am bragging), "Have you seen my keys?"
"No."
He remains standing next to the key holder, drumming his fingers on the wall. I can't tell if he's sincerely thinking about where the keys may actually be, or just waiting for me or one of the kids to say, "Here they are!" However, after eight years of marriage, I have ascertained with reasonable certainty that each time he comes to me and says, "I can't find the thingamajig," he hasn't actually searched for it, but gone to wherever the thingamajig should be, and upon not seeing it, just waited for it to materialize there. Case in point:
"I can't find the small suitcase. I looked in the closet." Into said closet I go, emerging with the small suitcase.
"Where was it?"
"In the closet."
"Oh. I didn't see it."
I know he didn't see it, because from the time the suitcase was last utilized to now, we have put more stuff into the closet on top of the suitcase. You can be judgmental about my organization skills all you want, but my point - that we own a lot of stuff, and that we've lived together long enough that he really ought to know that that stuff ends up in the first convenient place I can find for it so he probably should move stuff around if he really wants to find the thing he needs - remains valid.
If I were to give him the benefit of the doubt, my other guess would be that these objects are simply kickin' it in an
alternate dimension whenever he wants them. That would certainly explain why I can't find things sometimes. In fact, I think that's what happened to a tube of moisturizer I had on my nightstand a while back. It simply disappeared, and I haven't been able to find it for months. I may have briefly believed that my son threw it away for no other reason than he loves to throw things in the trash, but now that I've come up with the alternate dimension theory, I realize I'm treating him as guilty until proven innocent.
So since Husband is still standing there next to the door, I begin offering suggestions.
"Are they upstairs?" He goes to look. Not upstairs.
"On your desk?" No dice.
"In the pocket of the pants you wore yesterday?" Knowing those pants are in the wash, I am hoping that isn't the case. It isn't; he'd checked those pockets before washing them, like anyone who has ever done laundry should.
At this point, I get up to help look, which consists of looking in all the places he just looked. Even I can't find these *&$% keys.
"Okay, I'll just take your car," he resigns, picking up my keys.
Then a thought that I foreshadowed in the first paragraph of this blog entry crosses my mind: "Did you put your keys with something you needed to take with you?"
"Yes," Husband starts chuckling. Now Husband is full on laughing as he strolls to his man cave and picks up a shopping bag, his keys clipped to the handles. As I said earlier, it sure seems like a handy
memory trick. How he didn't see that bag when he went into that room earlier to look on his desk...well, I think I've abused Husband enough for one post.
Since Husband (mostly) doesn't mind the abuse, especially this close to our anniversary, this is for him: Sweetie, although I may not be a professional detective, know that whenever your glasses straighten their legs and walk right off of your bedside table, I will be there to pick them up. When you can't find your left sock, I am on the job. When you know you put your wallet right there and now it's gone, I'm your woman. Yeah. I'm your woman.
