Evidence that my husband really can never find anything:
Brian couldn’t find me this morning; he had no idea where I was. Confused, he went to the nursery and laid on the floor. (Sounds logical, right?) On his way to the other end of the house, he let Esther out to pee. Who knows how long our hound was out there, but I woke up to the sound of her whining to be let in.
Me, “BRIAN! BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAN! BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNN!”
Brian, from the nursery, “WHAT?”
Me, “CAN YOU LET ESTHER BACK IN?”
Then, having let her in, he headed back into the bedroom and inquired, “Where’d you go?”
Me, “I’ve been asleep.”
Brian, “But where’d you go? I woke up and you weren’t beside me.”
Me, “I haven’t gone anywhere.”
Brian, “You’ve been in bed this whole time?”
Brian, “I woke up and reached right here. I guess I was further over. Man, I really must not be able to find anything.”
Now, if Brian can’t find ME and I’m two feet away, imagine the scavenger hunts we have for our daily knick knacks!