Does Husbands "R" Us Give Refunds? - Where's the Ketchup

If I had a dime for every time my husband asked me where something was—when it was right there in plain sight—I’d be out cruising around in my Lamborghini instead of writing this blog.

Without fail, Tim constantly asks me where this is, where that is, and also where 67 other things are, on a daily basis. To give you a feel for what I’m talking about, here’s an example—which by the way happens frequently. He’ll pad out to the kitchen, open the refrigerator door and then stand there, staring into it with a dumbfounded look on his face, asking me where the ketchup is. I tell him it’s in the refrigerator. He’ll then inform me that it is most definitely not in there—as he continues to stare catatonically into its cold depth

“Have you actually looked?” I’ll ask.

“OF COURSE I’VE LOOKED; IT’S NOT IN THERE!!!” He’ll vehemently hiss, as if I’ve either done something devious with it, or I’ve just asked the stupidest question on earth.

I sigh and tell him to step aside so I can find it for him, to which he‘ll re-iterate
arrogantly that it is most certainly not in there.

Mmhmmm…

“Found it,” I’ll say, handing it to him .003 seconds later, since it was, of course, front and center on the top shelf, practically flashing a neon ketchup sign.

“IT WASN’T THERE!” He’ll wail, and then proceed to further tell me how I hid it somewhere else—on purpose—and  evidently by some form of pure evil magic produced it out of nowhere to make him look stupid.

Ummmm….

You see, we both have a very different definition of the word “looking.” Call me crazy but for me it means what you might think it means. For Tim, it means go somewhere near to the location where the object might be, do nothing, and then wait for the object to miraculously appear and leap willingly into his grasp; anything short of that means it isn’t there.

This doesn’t just happen with condiments either; it’s a commonplace scenario at our house involving anything he might go on a quest for.  He could be standing in front of his sock drawer looking for socks, his workbench searching for a certain tool, or a wide open field looking for a tractor; it doesn’t matter where it is—or what it is—because if he’s “looked” and can’t find it, then it ISN’T THERE. And, of course, that would be my cue to aid and assist; after many years of marriage I know it well. But you see I don’t mind, as it’s actually fun to see the look on his face when I can easily come across whatever it was that supposedly wasn’t there.

By the way, did I mention to you about the time he couldn’t find his hat? It was on his head…

:)