The other day, Brad was looking for a birthday present I gave him two years ago: a calculator watch. For one reason or another, he had never worn it but somehow he recently decided that the time had come ( no pun intended) to don this dapper accoutrement of civilization. He was searching the house for it as diligently as the woman in the Bible who swept her whole house to find a lost coin - basically, he tore the place apart in movements reminiscent of the Tasmanian devil. In so doing, he opened a box in our closet, marked with his name, that had not been opened since we moved here a year and a half ago. Yes- I think that's the last box. Finally. A time capsule of sorts. Inside, he was delighted to find a bunch of clothes he'd forgotten he owned -but was promptly annoyed because they were all cold weather clothes which he can't use now that the season of hotness is upon us.
THEN, he produced a strange item: my old cobalt blue tea kettle. NO IDEA WHY it was in a box with his clothes. But I have a feeling it wasn't his idea to include such a random thing with his sweaters; instead, it was probably the result of my strange packing habits. I can envision the scene like this: Brad is minding his own business, packing his clothes in the bedroom and I flutter by, tea kettle in tow, and shove it into his hands saying, " Pack this with your clothes!" in urgent, distressed tones. Probably because I had packed everything else in the kitchen except for that and didn't know what else to do with it.
And then, he pulled forth from the time-capsule/box ... the crowning touch: a bag of dirty laundry. Ah. Lying dormant for eighteen months- how precious. With a small smile on his face, he said kindly, "You can do this laundry at your leisure..." or something like that. How considerate. Well, it's been sealed up for this long...I suppose it surely CAN wait until a convenient moment, after I have bought a haz-mat suit.
He finally succeeded in finding the calculator watch - in the attic.