I get asked this at least once a week. Usually in a high octane voice accompanied by outstretched arms brandishing cupped hands to emphasise the gravity of the situation. The same way an average person would respond if they were to return home from work one day to find their house wasn’t where they left it that morning and/or had been replaced by a gigantic billboard advertising sausages. Any situation that would have your hands on standby next to your head in case you needed to bury it.
That this outbreak of apoplexy comes from one of the most unflappable, calm, men on Earth makes it even funnier. Christ knows he would need to be considering he’s married to me.
It all started back in the early days after I moved in. He would politely inquire about the possibility of me returning the teaspoons I casually exported from the cutlery drawer to work under the auspices of a packed lunch. Who the fuck notices teaspoons going missing? How…cute. Yes, we were at that early stage when the other person’s barely concealed neurosis is mistaken for an endearing idiosyncrasy, which is probably why I didn’t make every effort to prevent it from getting out of hand.
Over the years the teaspoons have taken on the life-cycle of socks, and dreams for the future. No sooner have new ones crossed the threshold than they’re swiftly sucked up by that great domestic vortex we call The Kitchen. Consequently, his voice began to veer close to the Joe Pasquale end of the scale when six went missing in one week. I know. What the fuck? *buries head* It turned out our toddler was dumping them in the bin after polishing off a yoghurt. I know what you’re thinking – that’s a lot of yoghurts, but this is not the time for any of your sneering judgements on my parenting. Actually go ahead, I don’t care.
So now, we’re back to an average loss of three or four a month. Stop looking at me like that. It’s not me. Unsurprisingly, this hasn’t curtailed the outbreaks of panic, or the intensity of them, but most times I nonchalantly avert the crisis by pointing out they’re on the draining board. Smugness moves in mysterious ways.
The secret to a happy marriage
My guess is he couldn’t give a monkeys about the teaspoons either. Deep-down we both know if he did, a psychiatric assessment would not be an unreasonable suggestion. Unflappable and calm on the surface, but he stills needs a valve to release the odd bout of pent-up of steam one adult accumulates from living with – and enduring the habits of – another. I positively encourage it, and might even accidentally hide a teaspoon occasionally. These outbursts are preferable to being challenged on any of the following:
“Why are you such a disaster at cleaning the house?”
“Why do you procrastinate so much?”
“Have you seen the phone bill lately?”
“What are you in a bad mood about now?”
“Do you want to get a divorce?”
“Did you eat all the cheese?”
“Where’s my other sock?”
Long may the teaspoon anxiety continue because “Well, you always put the empties back in the fridge” wouldn’t be a great line of defense against any of the above. And it would inevitably inspire him to ask “what do you mean?”
This made me laugh so much 😀
Ah. The mark of a kindred spirit. I hope your own situation isn’t too severe hehe.
I laughed a lot too 🙂 Our cutlery drawer is a random assortment of mismatched items – low on teaspoons, funnily enough – have you been round our house??? We’re a bit particular about our cutlery, especially He and I who only use designated For Our Personal Use items. I get quite peeved when He has used my particularly ornate dessert spoon for something mundane like spooning out his curry. Still, at least we can’t fall out about whether to get divorced.
A relief, since you have more grave issues to discuss. Coveting the other’s personal cutlery shouldn’t be underestimated. I’m here if you want to talk about it anytime.
I love these insights to the internal workings of another’s household. There are also forks I have taken an irrational dislike towards. Have we had that post yet? I feel it coming on.
With you on the forks! I can’t stand a fork with prongs which are too long. Looks like an instrument of torture 🙂
Very funny. Really gave me a giggle. My youngest daughter steals teaspoons from any cafe or coffee shop she goes into. I wasn’t aware of this at first. I would look in the cutlery draw for a teaspoon when making a cup of tea, there were always more spoons than the last time I went in there. I couldn’t figure this out. Where were they coming from? Over time, I became increasingly paranoid about this…
Commendable! I’m going to er..rob that idea.
That made me laugh – especially the toddler throwing the spoons in the bin. But I do believe you that you’re not responsible for the missing ones – they just disappear. It’s a thing. In our house, nobody brings spoons to work or school, and yet, they’re gone. So you can tell your husband that it’s definitely not your fault – we have evidence.
Look at this, husband *points to response* Heed this woman and the wise words she bringeth.
(thanks for the solidarity)