I love you too dear

I love you too dear

“Hey get me the thingy”

“All right but which particular thingy do you want?”

“Well I’m digging the garden aren’t I, so bring me the digging one!”

“Yes but which particular digging one? The shovel the spade, trowel, fork or rotovator.”

“I’m on my hands and knees so I would have thought it obvious that I want the trowel!”

“OK, so where is it then?”

“In the shed”

“Which shed is that?”

“The one with the gardening tools in!”

After a short pause.

“No it isn’t, well anyway I can’t see it”

“Where are you? Oh lord no, it’s in the other shed.”

A rather longer pause.

“It isn’t here either.”

“Yes it is it’s just beside the secateurs on the shelf.”

“We don’t have shelves in the sheds, you mean the outhouse where we keep the small tools.”

“Of course I do, I would have thought that was obvious.”

“I still can’t find it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I put it away in the kitchen drawer yesterday."

A slightly longer pause.

“I still can’t find it, which drawer did you mean?”
“The one in the peninsula unit.”

“Yes but there are six drawers in that, do you know which one?”

“Oh crikey, I suppose I’ll have to come and get it for myself. You men are so useless at finding things.”

There follows a very silent period while I follow my wife as she fruitlessly searches all the sheds and outhouses just in case, before going into the kitchen. She finally finds the trowel lying behind the breadbin where she’d left it, after cleaning it the day before.

“Sorry; I love you dear!”

“And I love you too dear!”

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