Bob and I have an ongoing joke between us: when he can’t find something, it’s my fault. You know, I’ve put it somewhere, his shoes, his biking shorts, whatever. I love it when he finds something that would not even have my fingerprints on it if checked.
He likes to leave things laying around in certain places, and I like to scoop them up and put them somewhere when cleaning house (which is rare). He is meticulous, shoes always side by side with the shoestrings tucked neatly inside. I’m doing well to find my shoes. He says I have “places for everything and everything in its places”.
And we’re still married after all these years. Continue reading “It’s here somewhere”