I’m softening “stupid” to “dumb” because this is my sweetie I’m talking about, and I don’t want to call him stupid.
Sunday night, I was making dinner. I’d toasted the bagels, and was waiting for the toaster to cool off so I could put the “quilt” back on. Then I started thinking about kitchen fires. Where was the fire extinguisher? It wasn’t anywhere on the counter.
“Sweetie?..Where’s the fire extinguisher?”
“Is there a fire?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m asking so calmly. No, there’s no fire; I just want to know where the extinguisher is.”
“I think it’s in that cabinet.”
“The one over the sink?..The one where we keep the liquor bottles?”
“No, the one over the stove.”
I reach wayyyyy above my head to open the cabinet door, and make several grabs at the extinguisher before I can get a grip on it. I am unable to do this without having my arms come in contact with the metal stove hood, where the fan is. The same metal hood that would become scorching hot if there was a fire. I finally retrieve the extinguisher and put in on the counter, within easy reach.
Now, that wasn’t all him, because I could have noticed weeks earlier that the extinguisher wasn’t in a sensible spot. But it can’t be denied that fire extinguishers belong out in the open, the same way pepper spray belongs in your hand.
The honey jar was on the table, sat on its own lid. My SO picked up the jar from its lid seat, and turned it upside down to inspect the base for stickiness. The lid, of course, was still on the table. I shouted “STOP!”, but there was already runny Greek honey everywhere.
I was telling P. how it was a southern tradition to give babies their mother’s maiden name (or grandmothers, ect.) as a middle name. So my middle name is Yi, after my mother, TT’s is Tate after me and I said “Yeah, and my brother’s is Norris, my Grandmother’s maiden name.”
My sweetie has a C&R (curios & relics) licence, and collects very exotic rare firearms; many of them big automatic weapons capable of shooting airplanes down. FWIW, every firearm he owns is unloaded & locked up in cases (except for the big howitzer type ones), the ammo is locked away seperately. Unless we take them out to shoot at the range, which is an absolute blast. Anyhow…
He has some giant thing on a tripod in his bedroom. It’s a cute place to sling my undies over… He was cleaning it about a month ago. It fell over onto his foot & broke two toes.
I better be careful, because I’m sure that between the two of us, I have done 1) more dumb things, 2) the dumbest thing, and 3) Hi Opal!
But my husband has locked his keys in his car several times. Each time I have to drive down (or, in one case, when he had taken me in to work, take a bus) to rescue him with the key on my ring.
Now, myself, I’ve locked the keys in the car ONCE. It was humiliating and extremely inconvenient, and now I reflexively pat my pocket to be sure the keys are there before I close any door.
Pod, tell him to hold them in his mouth, if he has to do any shuffling around before he locks up. It looks silly, but much less silly than the alternative.
My dad locked his keys in his car once on Boxing Day, at the mall. Not a tragedy, except that by the time my mom got there, he’d come near to maxing out his AmEx. “What was I supposed to do before you got here?”
I don’t know why I am sharing this, but here goes anyway. Some back history: I am now married to this man, but after we’d initially gotten engaged, I got major cold feet, backed out of the engagement and cancelled the wedding. He & I broke up for about 6 months, during which we lived in different cities but stayed in pretty close touch (but didn’t see each other at all). Then we got back together. Shortly after that, he let me know that while we were apart, he’d slept with a woman who works in his office. I suppress all feelings of wld jealousy and say that I understand, we discuss the fact that he doesn’t have any feelings fer her now, etc., etc. All is well.
Fast-forward two weeks, to when I ask for his new work number. He gives me a number. I call him later that day, only to discover that he’d given me the woman’s phone number. I was absolutely livid.
He didn’t do it as a power play or to make me mad or jealous or anything. He’d simply had to dial her number many times since he works directly with her, and had never dialed his own extension. It was the first number to pop into his head. He apologized profusely, but it’s still the singlemost thoughtless, idiotic thing he’s ever, ever done.
I was dating a girl who I felt was crowding me a bit. She would come over every day to my apt and take a nap (how’s that for flattering)… I told her I needed some time to myself, and asked to have one night to myself. She thought I was breaking up with her, but I explained that I just needed some time to myself, and I still liked her, but I needed some privacy. (we had been dating about 2 months)
She usually called me between 5 and 10 times a day during my workday alone. I hated to answer the phone at work because of it.
Our garage is detached and at the back of the lot. It’s an oversized garage for two vehicles and additional storage space. So in addition to the door that the vehicles pull through, there is a regular door to the side for storage. The way house and the garage line up the doors are sort of back to back to each other about 12 feet apart. The door on the garage is visible fromt the street and is frequently left open. Since I always park in the garage at night, use the back entry. I mention to Hubby (repeatedly) that it’s a frightening thing to pull into the drive and see that door standing open. When I’ve mentioned it enough (ok, maybe I nagged) he finally purchased and installed a special hinge that closes the door automatically so that it would no longer be left standing open for all the neighborhood to see and enter.
Earlier this evening, the door was propped open with a shovel. Before that it was a paint can, a waterski, a brick, and golf shoes. The most ironic door prop to date… the old hinge. :rolleyes:
He was cleaning it about a month ago. It fell over onto his foot & broke two toes.