This story is not funny and I’m not laughing but you can! 🙂
I have always lost everything . . my entire life. When I was in college, I lived at home and always took the first class available. In the summer, those classes started at 7:30 or maybe 7:45. That was a LONG time ago but I had to leave our house way before 7 to get there on time. Every single morning, I couldn’t find my keys. At night, my parents would say “Do you know where your keys are so we’re not all looking for them in the morning?” My response was probably “No, but I’ll find them before I go to bed.” I never did and the minute my alarm went off, the first thing I thought about was “Where are my keys?”
Nothing has changed in the 50 years that have passed. I never know where my keys are. I never know where my wallet is. Half the time I don’t know where my phone is.
Vince doesn’t usually lose things and he has been plenty frustrated with me through the years for never knowing where things are.
Here, I hung a little shelf with hooks on it in the laundry room so when we walk in the door, we put our keys on those hooks. So far, I don’t think either of us have lost our keys til yesterday.
Vince came in and said he couldn’t find the keys to the storage side of the shop. I asked if he wanted me to help him look and he said no, he’d find them. He thought he’d find them quickly. He went back through the bedroom looking, looked under everything in the kitchen and breakfast room, was rumaging around in the sunroom and downstairs garage. I again offered to help.
I asked him if he checked inside the pickup because he had to run to Lowe’s to get pipe for the concrete guy to use. He said he looked in the truck. I asked about various places in the garage and he’d go out there and look. This went on for at least an hour.
He said he had the lock number and the guy who built the shop probably has more locks with that number so he could use one of those keys to make more.
He came in the living room and sat down and we had this conversation:
Me: When did you last have them?
Vince: The concrete guy used them to get something out of the shop, locked the door and gave them back to me.
Me: You sure he gave them back to you?
Me: Could you have dropped them in the yard?
Vince: I retraced my steps and I can’t find them in the yard.
Me: You don’t remember what happened after he handed them to you?
Vince: I thought I put them in my pocket but I’ve checked all the dirty clothes and they’re not in the pockets.
OHHH! That’s when I remembered . .
Normally Vince throws all his dirty clothes in his clothes basket and I throw mine in my clothes basket. His stuff gets dirty and mine doesn’t get as dirty so I usually wash his clothes on the heavy soil cycle so I wash our clothes separately.
Yesterday morning I was washing my jeans and I only had two pair that were dirty so I grabbed some of Vince’s shorts to fill up the washer. I had just heard the washer finish but had not gotten up to put the clothes in the dryer.
Me: You might check the washer.
Vince: I didn’t bring my clothes basket in the laundry room yet.
Me: I needed more clothes to make a load today so I grabbed some of your shorts.
He went in the laundry room, dug around in the washer and found his keys.
I would probably have been aggravated that he hadn’t told me he had washed some of my clothes (of course . . that won’t happen because if he learns to work the washer, he will no longer need me around . . he’s already told me that!). I think he was so happy to find them that he didn’t say “I wish you would have told me an hour ago.”
The difference in Vince and me is that he will NEVER lose his keys again and I will lose mine every time I use them.