Did you ever wonder how many times you can move something around your house before it finds a permanent home?
I’m currently testing this theory and I think I’ve just hit the eleven-billionth time and apparently, I have not hit the maximum # of times.
It’s actually an interesting phenomenon.
It feels sort of like a war. I flank the item and prepare for an attack. I flush the item out into the open. I take cover and wait for my men (man) to dispose of the enemy. And I wait. And I wait. And I wait.
Then, if I don’t keep this enemy in my sites at all times, somehow it relocates. So I must retreat and plan to battle another day.
I will admit that there are days where I do indeed sabotage my own efforts. I’m just so worn down and tired from the battle that I actually inadvertently help perpetuate the war.
Ok, so maybe I’m over-dramatizing the battle that exists in my house and maybe the enemy is a mere notebook or some sort of work-out-gear but it always plays out the same way and I’m amazed that I’m involved in, what I’ll call, the 7 year war and there’s no end in sight.
If you’re the kind of person who needs more literal storytelling, I’ll switch gears a little bit for you.
There are a set of boxing hand wraps that have been living in a variety of places in my kitchen for about a year or so. And when I say, in my kitchen, I do not mean a drawer… I mean my counter. They started out on my kitchen table (this was probably after the first time hubby used them, after his first boxing class – a little over a year ago). They sat there, until his next class, and then they reappeared when he was done. I don’t know about you, but I sort of feel that a kitchen table might not be the best long term place for these.
So I move them to the corner of a counter. Then, they reappeared back on the table one day. So I move them to the island in the middle of the kitchen. A more focal point in our kitchen where they will undoubtedly call out to hubby “please find me a permanent home where I can happily live out my days…..”. But obviously hubby is employing selective hearing or quite possibly they have a woman’s voice and he can’t hear them at all……so, they sit on the island for 2 weeks. Then of course, in my pre-clean for the cleaning ladies, they need to be relocated. So back to the side counter they go. This time into a basket so I don’t have to look at them every day. Apparently I have found them a suitable new home. So, they live in this basket (which by the way, still isn’t the proper place for them, it’s just my cleaning lady place for them) until hubby uses them. And then, no surprise here, they find their way back to another random counter. This battle replays itself for months UNTIL one day, I decided to clean out that basket. So, they make their way back to the island where I ask hubby…. “Can’t you possibly find a better home for these?” And, hubby looks at me like I have three heads because they have a home… the basket.
And, this scenario replays itself all over our house.
- I place folded laundry on the bed for hubby to put away.. he moves it to the floor to go to sleep. I move it back to the bed. He moves it back to the floor.
- Hubby has a bag of stuff that needs to be returned to Lowes… it’s sitting on the kitchen counter. Cleaning ladies come. I move it to another room. Cleaning ladies leave. I move it back to the kitchen table. I realize it’s not obvious enough on the kitchen table so…. I move it to the kitchen island. It sits there for 2 weeks. Cleaning ladies come. I move it to another room. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
But perhaps one of my favorite examples happened earlier this year.
As you may remember…. (another battle that I lost)….We bought a new TV.
The HUGE tv box sat in a hallway in our kitchen for weeks (we were saving it just in case it had to be returned). True Story: We actually had to move it to get in and out of the garage. Then one day, the cleaning ladies came and hubby moved it upstairs into the hallway (closer to the attic, where we should store it.. I was celebrating a teeny, tiny bit in my head). Then it sat in the hallway upstairs forever. I can remember moving it to a spare room to hide it when we had friends over… then dragging it back to the hallway as a subtle visual reminder for hubby to put it into the attic. Move into bedroom. Move back to hallway. Move to bedroom. Move to hallway. Move closer to stairs so it’s a MORE subtle reminder. Move to bedroom. As you can imagine, months were flying by and one day I said to hubby… “what’s the story with this friggn’ box? Are you ever gonna move it into the attic?”. And, you know what he says….?? Brace yourself…. He says “Oh, that box? It’s garbage, I’m just waiting for the next trash day to bring it outside”. WTF hubby….. WTF?!!!
I’m convinced that hubby either has the worst case of selective vision that ever existed OR I’m being repaid for some horrible things I’ve done in a previous life.
(and.. if this wasn’t enough… click HERE to see what happens a few days after this post!)
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