Monday, August 16, 2010

Finders' Weepers, Losers...just annoy me

We are officially moved into our house, but we aren't really unpacked.  There are still a lot of bags, suitcases, plastic tubs/bins, and well pretty much crap, just strewn about.  This morning, I will be going to our apartment to pack up the last bit of crap that makes me wonder why we're packing it and not throwing it away.  In fact, there are several boxes in my house full of things we just had to bring.  No one seems to know why.

Last night, I was watching the David Hasselhoff Roast when Warren came out of the bedroom.

"Anne?  Where's the pillowcases?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you're the last person who had them."

Okay first of all, I don't actually know who the last person who had them was.  Secondly, there are about 4 pillows in the guest bedroom that he could have used, I was comfortable, and finally he finds stuff for me and not the other way around.

"No, really.  Where are the pillowcases?"

Annoyed, I exclaimed, "Really?  I have no idea."

He finally found the pillowcase and went to bed.

This morning, Warren couldn't find pants for work.  He mentioned it to me and I murmured something sleepily then covered my head with my blanket.  He came in again and I feigned sleep so he'd leave me alone.  Finally, he turned on the lights and threw the blankets off of me. 

"You need to get up!  I can't find my pants!"

Normally, I would have laughed at someone missing their pants.  Instead, I yelled something about finding my glasses and stomped into the next room.

I found a pile of pants in his new closet. 

"No, that's only a few pairs.  I want to find all of my pants.  I don't know where any of my jeans are."

Call me crazy but I only wear one pair of pants at one time.  Additionally, all of his pants look the same (khaki) so it's not like he was looking for a specific pair of pants to go match a top.  He just wanted to find his pants.  As in all of them.  He eventually found them in a suitcase he'd packed that I didn't even know about.

I realized it was trash day and as I was pushing the trashcan down the driveway, I stopped to pick up some beer bottles left by our neighbors.  I also picked up a blowpop and a plastic bottle leftover from a kid's drink.

My life has progressed from my mother (Queen of Efficiency) keeping track of my things, to me calling Warren to ask where I left my keys (while we were dating and didn't even live together), to Warren getting mad at me daily for losing my keys/cell phone/purse, and now to a new era.  I am officially a finder.  Or at least, people expect me to find things. 

I'd rather watch David Hasselhoff.

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