Last night I attempted to have a conversation with my husband. He was watching TV [as usual] "Have you seen the cord for the camera? I really want to upload those pictures to my blog."
Brad, not taking his eyes away from the monstrosity that is It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, "No. Did you check the luggage?"
"Why would I check the luggage?" I ask.
Brads eyes dart toward me for a second, then back to the screen. "Well, you downloaded the vacation pictures while we were in Mexico. Maybe you left it in there."
"Yes." I begin, "But I finished uploading them here, at the house, when we go back. I wouldn't have repacked it back into our luggage. And I think I took it with me to work once. It's definitely not in the luggage."
A commercial comes on and I find myself with his full attention. "Did you check the kitchen?"
"Yes!" I yell emphatically, throwing my hands melodramatically into the air. "I have looked everywhere! In all the drawers, on the table in the living room. In the spare room. I can't find it! I looked at work. In my bag. In my laptop bag, which I haven't even used in two months. It is no where to be found. I don't understand." I say as I rummage through my top night stand drawer for the umteenth time.
His show is back on and he has assumed his usual position. Laid back on the bed, remote leaning from his chest to his chin. He laughs as Dee falls down a hill, screaming. I stand arms crossed. Frustrated.
I clear my throat. He glances over at me and back at the screen.
"Really! Where can it be? I don't understand. It has to be here somewhere. Seriously. It didn't just walk away." I say, borrowing something I heard a million times as a child.
The show ends, Brad gets up and heads into the bathroom. He emerges, toothbrush in hand. "Did you check my black bag I take to work?"
"No," I say. "Why would I have checked your black bag?"
"What!" I yell over my shoulder as I turn and walk into the kitchen. The black bag is sitting there, taunting me. I think I actually picked it up and looked under it at one point.
From the bedroom, I can hear Brad, "You're going to be mad, aren't you?"
I pull out a bag of chips, and there, staring at me is a black cord. "Dammit." I mutter under my breath. I grab the pink camera that is sitting on the bar. Open the waterproof door and check to see if the cord fits. It does. "Fuck!" I yell, walking over to the living room, depositing the camera and the cord into my black bag.
"Dude, I've been looking for this cord for over a week! Why didn't you mention this sooner?"
He shrugs his shoulders in response. I laugh.
Since I FINALLY got the photos off the camera, I had to post them. Also, Sarah requested close-ups of the curtains. I should have ironed them, but I'm lazy at times.