This column pissed Nate off...he he...

I’m pretty sure that in Latin, the word “wife” means, “one who finds things.” Because if I had a dollar for every time Nate asked, “Where is my...?” I’d be retired on some Caribbean beach right now. Maybe it’s because I’m home more, or maybe it’s just because I actually put things away, but I can always find what Nate is looking for around home. Be it a belt, inhaler, checkbook, pen, magazine, etc., I almost always can tell him right where to find it.

My mom is much better at this than I am. I suppose it’s because she’s been married 26 years and chased after five children. When we were kids, it was always shoes. They had a tendency to walk off by themselves after we took them off after school the day before. “Where did you leave them last?” was always the question. And I would think, duh, if I remembered, I wouldn’t need help. But a lot of the time, I did remember. Unfortunately, there were 12 other hands in the house that could move them. Not to mention the mouth of a dog or two. But somehow, my mom could always reach under the coach, or from behind a door, and produce the missing shoes. I always wondered how she knew.

I lost my glasses not long ago, and she threatened to come up and find them for me. Scary thing is, I’d bet she would walk in and pull them right out from under the seat of my car or from behind a lotion bottle in the bathroom cupboard. Having experienced it first hand, I know it’s slightly annoying to have someone make you feel a little dumb for losing so many items. But like my mom, I take a little smug pleasure in telling Nate exactly where his lost item now rests. The problem is he hardly ever puts anything away. If he wears a belt, it stays in his pants until I go to wash them. There’s been more than one occasion where I didn’t see the belt and it got washed right along with the jeans.

Medicines that get left out go back to one of two cupboards. Amazingly, Nate hasn’t figured this out yet. When he asks where his inhaler went, it’s always in the cupboard beside the sink. Some things are more random. Most of the time, he carries his checkbook with him, but he also will leave it at home until a magazine gets set on top of it on the table. Then it’s up to me to solve this mystery. Maybe it’s because I’m the evil magazine reader who hid his checkbook.

There are a few things I don’t mind having him leave around. Change and single bills left in pockets become my lunch money. I call it my laundry fee. Other forgotten items are not appreciated. He may complain if I have pop and water bottles or food wrappers left on my car floor. However, if he looked closer, he would find that at least half are his own.

Unfortunately, losing things seems to be hereditary as I’ve learned from my own family experience. All too soon, it will be Jacob who can’t find his shoes. But by then, Nate should have me trained good enough that I’ll be an expert “wife.”