Honey, where’s the salt?

Have you ever had one of those conversations with your husband? You know the one. It’s the one where he is in the kitchen on Saturday morning for his weekend ritual of making pancakes for the kids while I get to sleep in or catch up on my favorite blogs. He makes pancakes EVERY weekend and he’s lived with me for 15 ish years and yet he can still stand in the pantry or in front of the fridge or closet or cupboards and call out to me…”honey, where’s the salt?” My response is usually a sigh and a roll of the eyes because I’m all too familiar with this dance.

 

 

“It’s in the pantry, dear.”

 

“No, it isn’t.”

 

“Yes, it is. Keep looking.”

 

“I am looking…I see kosher salt and coarse salt but I don’t see any table salt.”

 

“It’s in there, I promise.”

 

Getting frustrated now. “Seriously honey, I don’t see it, are you sure we have table salt in here?”

 

“Don’t be afraid to move something to see if the big white box is behind something else!”

 

“I’m not stupid, I’m looking everywhere, I don’t see it!”

 

With a heavy sigh, I get up from whatever I’m doing and go to the pantry and without even looking, I reach in and pull out the box of table salt from behind a smaller bottle of vinegar. “There you go, honey.”

 

If rolling my eyes burned calories I would be one skinny bitch.

 

Seriously, what genetic mutation makes men have selective eyesight?

 

–