Friday, June 25, 2010

things my boyfriend does

Day late, as usual. Never mind, let's see what we have for today shall we?

My Boyfriend Can't Find Things

I know this particular habit is not exclusive to my Boyfriend alone (then again, most of the other stuff he does is, from what I understand, common to menfolk). He can never find anything. As we all know, he's not the neatest person out there, but he can't even remember where he put something he just had in his hand five minutes ago. He's a bit careless like that. 

He also tends to just leave things lying around where they don't belong, which probably leads to his inability to find anything. You know who ends up finding everything? That's right, me. I find his underwear tucked into the couch cushions. Belts and shirts draped on every surface. Socks everywhere! Under the coffee table, in a dusty corner of the bathroom, tucked under the cabinets in the kitchen. Sometimes, tangled in the bedsheets when I crawl into bed at night. 

Remember these from the SATs?

Tumbleweed is to Desert as...
         a. icecream is to potatoes
         b. fisherman is to mountain
         c. socks are to my apartment

The correct answer is C. (When in doubt, 'C' your way out, right kids?) Those things roll around in the breezes from the AC all day long. It's awful. Then he complains he has no socks. He does, they're just no longer living in his sock drawer.

He often shuffles into the kitchen, opens the fridge or a cabinet, stares inside for a beat or two, then closes the cabinet and shouts to me "Where is the mayo/bag of chips/sauce/cheese?" or "I thought you bought pasta/cookies/granola?"

"I did," I'll reply, "They're in the cabinet/fridge."

"Nuh-uh, I just looked." Then I will sigh, get up from what I was doing, open the cabinet or fridge, move something aside, and voila! The snack he so desperately wanted.

Boyfriend works nights, which means I am fast asleep when he leaves for work around 12:30am. The other day I was working on my computer when I noticed his keys sitting on the desk. 

"I'll bet he doesn't know these are here," I thought to myself, "He never puts his keys here. I should move them or remind him he left them here." How right I was. Only I forgot to mention this to him. That night, as I slept peacefully, dreaming of shopping sprees and french fries, I was awoken by a kerfuffle. 

Boyfriend had barged into the bedroom (seriously, he slams doors OPEN, not closed), turned on the lights, and was grumbling "I can't find my keys!"

"They're on the desk." I pointed groggily, cursing myself for not telling him while I was awake. 

"You KNEW they were there THE WHOLE TIME." He huffed, and stormed out. The whole time of what? The whole time he was looking? Well yes, I did. But I was ASLEEP. Maybe if he put them where they belonged.

I'll often get text messages while I'm at work and he'll ask me where something is. For instance, this past winter, his tax returns. 

"They're on the dining table." I tell him. No, he says he checked and they're not there. 

"Alright, look in your boxes." I bought him two neat little black storage boxes at IKEA which I use as repositories for all his junk. They make me happy. 

"They're not in there either!" I can tell he's whining by the tone of his text.

"Well I don't know what to tell you. I know I put them on the table and I told you 80 basquillion times not to lose them!" Then: radio silence. A little while later, I get another text:

"I found them."

"And where were they?"

"On the table."

I don't know why I even bother sometimes. Though when I get to say I TOLD YOU SO it is extremely satisfying.


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