Where’s the Ketchup?

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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 convertible right now instead of writing this blog.

Without fail, Tim constantly asks me where this is, where that is, and where sixty-seven other things are on a daily basis. For example, he’ll pad out to the kitchen, open the refrigerator door, and then stand there staring into it, dumbfounded, mouth agape, asking me where the ketchup is. I tell him it’s in the refrigerator. He’ll inform me it is most definitely not in there, as he continues to stare catatonically into its depths.

“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’s 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.

“BUT IT WASN’T THERE!” he’ll wail, accusing me of hiding it on purpose and then, by some form of pure evil magic, producing it out of nowhere to make him look stupid.

Ummmm….

He and I have vastly different definitions of what it means to look for something. Call me crazy, but for me it means what you think it means. For Tim, it means doing absolutely nothing–with blindfolds on–and if it doesn’t somehow mysteriously leap into his hands tit isn’t there.

This doesn’t just happen with condiments either. He could be standing in front of his sock drawer wondering where his socks are; at his workbench and be unable to find his tools; or out in a wide open field and not see the tractor right there in front of him. It doesn’t matter where it is, or what it is, because if he’s ‘looked for it’ and can’t find it, then it isn’t there.

Of course, that would be my cue to run to his rescue. After many years of marriage I know this cue well. I don’t mind though, as it’s actually quite amusing to see the look on his face when I easily come across whatever it was that wasn’t there.

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

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