Bloody Hell This Morning…
No, husband, I don’t know where your notebook is.
No, husband, I don’t know where your keys are.
No, husband, I don’t know where you put your wedding ring.
No, husband, I don’t know what happened to your spare shirt.
No, husband….
No, husband….
NO. GO TO FUCKING WORK.
BLAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH.
Haha. My partner does the same thing.
‘Tanya, where are my keys?’
“How the hell should I know? It’s *your* car.”
Then comes the inevitable panic-hunt for the car keys…it’s a wonder I get out the door at all..
And he stands in the middle of the living room looking helpless until I make some sort of cursory effort to help. These days I just run off a list of places I have found his keys in the past. “Next to the computer? In your pocket? In the car? On your head? Up your bum? GO AWAY.”
Yes! I do that too. Jimmy’s keys always have a way of turning up in the strangest places. He has a habit of leaving them in the door, which annoys the hell out of me. Once I found them in my shoe, though. Not sure how to explain that one..
Once I found Chris’ keys in the pocket of my ski jacket. We were both shocked by that one.
