I have an, ah, let’s just call it an instinct, that drives Elaine crazy. She would call it a disease, but she can be awfully wrong. When I am working with tools, I do not put them away if I am EVER going to use them again. I leave the tool when I finish my project and then I know exactly where I left it.
For three decades she has been trying to show me the error of my ways. I walk out to the fence to where I was digging last month and I find my shovel is no longer there. Into the house I go!
Me: Have you seen my shovel?
Elaine: I put it in the shed, so you could find it.
Me: I could find it if you would have left it by the fence, I can’t find it because you put it in the shed.
Elaine: next time look in the shed first, then you will find it where it belongs. Better still, why don’t you put it back in the shed?
Me: I don’t have time to talk about this, I need to find my shovel.
Over the years, we have had this conversation hundreds of times. Not always about shovels, but hammers, reading glasses, clothing, car keys, (you get where I’m going?) My instincts worked pretty well for the first 45 years of my life, it’s the last ten years or so that it hasn’t worked too great.
Don’t tell Elaine, but sometimes I just can’t find my stuff. Maybe Elaine is moving everything I own just to win this battle.
I am absolutely sure I am right and this thing is instinctive. Boy Twin has it, also. I will need a tool and looking for it where I left it. Of course, it’s gone. Just when I start questioning my memory, Boy Twin will tell me he used it and knows where it is.
Boy Twin: I know where the hammer is.
Me: Where? Go get it.
Boy Twin: I was using it at the end of the driveway, I’ll be right back!
He will run down the driveway and after a while he will be back with a dead bird.
Boy Twin: Hey Monner, look at this dead bird I found!
Me: Hey that’s great! Where’s the hammer?
Boy Twin: Oh, I forgot about that.
See, this is obviously something that is in our genes!
Ok, now let’s get to the story.
If you follow this crap, you know that our basement was damaged by Flood Monner. I have spent the last few weekends cleaning up and rebuilding the basement. I have had help. If you are guessing the help was FEMA, you would be wrong. (Oops, almost got political) My help comes from the QUARTERBACK! Yep, the same one.
The Quarterback has taken it upon himself to help get the basement finished and get the twins back in their bedrooms. He has a strong construction background, he is fluent in construction language and he is very good at pushing the project along.
The Quarterback has his own tools, and is not afraid to ask to use mine. He has the same instincts I have. He leaves his tools (and mine) where he used them. And just like me, sometimes he remembers where he put them.
QB: Hey, my knife is in my van, can I borrow yours?
Me: Of course.
I handed him a red-handled knife. (this will be important later) Twenty minutes later, he asked me if I took my knife back.
QB: Hey, did you take the knife?
Me: No, Here’s another one. (this knife is blue)
Another twenty minutes…
QB: Hey, I’m going outside for a couple minutes.
Me: OK, you need a smoke? (Some Quarterbacks still smoke, I guess)
QB: Nah, I going to get my knife.
Our crazy lives!