A new household project has begun. In preparation for the painting to be done after Thanksgiving, Mike and I decided to pull up the Berber carpet that covered the stairway. Pulling up carpet is an icky job, but better to do it now rather than at some future point after the walls and woodwork are covered with fresh paint.
So, my story is that I was severely chastened as we picked up the task again today. Mike had laid out the tools after we finished up half the job yesterday. I was using some pliers, but when we started to get in each other's way as he was pulling carpet and I was pulling staples, I decided to go do the breakfast dishes. Once Mike was finished with the carpet and padding, he went to get the pliers. They were not in the neat array he had left.
"Where are the pliers?" I heard from the kitchen.
"Oh, I have them right here." I took them to him. He had that hard-eyed glint in his eye.
"They were not where I had put them," he said with a look that clearly told me that he would not in any way appreciate a comment about not being able to locate said item OR his genetic make-up.
So, okay, I am admitting for all the world. I spend far more time looking for my car keys than he does. (Key slut is a term my daughter once employed.) It's true...I can lose my scissors withinn the 2' by 3' confines of my sewing table without once leaving the chair in front of it. I re-arrange drawers and cupboards as I clean the kitchen and then I wonder just where the citrus zester might be.
The difference of course is that I will move every single item in the entire house when looking for something that I have misplaced. That is a different matter entirely than openning the medicine cabinet and being unable to move the vitamin container in order to see the aspirin container behind it. Sorry. I stand by my scientific theories.