We have a plethora of remotes for various stereos, video games, televisions, cable access, DVD, and the dinosaur VCRs. I know in which room they all belong and I can work 95 percent of them.
Trying to be helpful, I moved her sheets from the washer to the dryer. Well, there's a remote control at the bottom of the washer, along with two batteries. I can't find the back piece and although I've searched it repeatedly, I'm terrified it's melting in my dryer.
We're all guilty of tissues or coins inadvertently left in a pocket. But a remote control? It's a pretty hefty object.
Maybe it's the weather but I'm sort of prickly today. I came home this afternoon and was informed that something is wrong with the washer. She sort of implied it must have been Houseboy.
I've declined this argument for a few reasons:
She was the one doing laundry today.
Houseboy does a lot of things around here but he has never done laundry.
Since the remote has been washed and rinsed, Heaven only knows what else has gone through this machine.
So, one more service call. One more schedule to coordinate. One more check to write. Maybe when the service people are here they will find the back piece.
