I just need to vent

The BBQ Pit
21

While I am not the Keeper of Stuff in my house, I have become the Finder of Stuff.

See, ever since I acquired a husband and children, stuff gets lost. And there’s apparently some genetic mutation that runs through the feminine line in my family, because as soon as any of us got husbands & kids, we became psychic, developed x-ray vision and an extra set of eyes in the backs of our heads, and bionic hearing as well. My mom, aunt, and grandmother all have these abilities as well. Neat, huh?

NOT.

All it means is that I’ve got to listen to you whine about how you can’t find your clean shirt/glasses/blank tapes/porn stash (while you think you’re muttering under your breath), then you throw up your hands in frustration after searching for all of, oh, twelve seconds, and declare it Officially Lost. Not Temporarily Misplaced, not Not Where It Should Be, not Here In The House, but Appropriated By The Children For Their Nefarious Little Ends. No, it is Lost.

Please.

Your clean shirt is in the pile of dirty laundry, right where you threw it yesterday after you brought it up from the dryer.

Your glasses are on the computer table, right where you always leave them. No wait, I’m sorry. They’re on the computer table, three inches to the right of where you always leave them.

Your blank tapes are in the Best Buy bag on the kitchen table. Under the coloring books. How’d they get under the coloring books? The children see us put our stuff on the kitchen table–they figure that’s where their stuff goes, too.

Your porn stash is in the sock drawer. Always has been, always will be. That’s where porn is supposed to go. Why can’t you find it, you ask? I did laundry. There’s actually socks in there now, too. Oooooh. What a novel idea!

:rolleyes:

22

In our house, this is called “Refridgerator Blindness.” I forget which comidian said, “He cannot move the milk to look for it. . . if he moves the milk, that is admitting that the milk has won.”

23

Oh yes, we have this same drama unfolding regularly at our house as well.

Personally, my feeling is that the person who can never locate anything has simply jettisonned any responsibility for their things by just leaving them all about. When they get moved, well, how can they know where they’ve gone?

My favorite response goes something like this; ‘That would be why they are called ‘your’ keys, because you are supposed to take responsibility for their whereabouts.’ MY keys? Got 'em right here.
The Tibetan Budhists believe that those who are always losing things in this life are simply living out the karma of someone who was a thief in their last life.

24

I am currently living with a 12-year-old who, apparently, has some very serious issues with 1) memory 2) cause and effect.

He seems unable to figure out that if he comes home, takes off his jacket and leaves it downstairs at the computer, then later wants to go out again, he won’t find his jacket in his room, the closet, the living room, the kitchen, my room, the laundry room, or even out on the porch. No, it’s downstairs at the computer. Where you left it. Weird, eh?

He has to wear a school T-shirt because he goes to a private school. So every morning when he gets dressed, it has to be in one of these two specific T-shirts. And just about every morning, he’ll come down from his room and say “I can’t find my t-shirt.” I will (very sympathetically) say, “Well, keep looking.” He says “ok” and turns around to go back up to his room to keep looking. Like that idea never occured to him.

Also, if you had to wear the same shirt every bloody day, wouldn’t you make sure you had a place to put that shirt when you took it off so you’d know where it was? No, I guess not. Just ask Brunetter where it is. She’ll tell you to keep looking, and then it will somehow magically appear.

I could go on, but really, why??