Tony, Tony look around! Something's lost and must be found!

Alright, I lose stuff.

It happens to everyone sometime, but it happens to me more often that I'd like to admit. Most of the time I've just misplaced something and forgotten where I moved it to. Sometimes I just forget things at home, or at the office, or at a friend's house...anywhere but where I am when I need it.

On Saturday, I lost my keys. Very frustrating, as I can't drive without them. (I should really learn how to hot-wire a car for emergencies.) I went out to the car to look for something else I had misplaced (stop laughing!) and decided that since I was just going to be leaving in a few minutes, I would leave the stuff I needed to take to the place I was going in the car, but I made sure to keep my keys in my hand so as not to lock them in the car (see, I sometimes learn from my forgetfulness).

I took the stuff out of my car that wasn't what I needed for the evening. It was leftover stuff from the previous weekend's activities that had never made it back inside, including a pair of jeans that I had turned the house upside down (in an exaggerated, non-literal way) looking for, going so far as to accuse my poor, innocent husband of stealing, hiding, eating or otherwise destroying or removing from this plane of existence all my jeans.

Anyway, I took that stuff in, with my keys in my hand.

I set that stuff down, looking though it to try to find the other thing I had misplaced. I didn't find it. I kept looking, including places I'd already looked in twice before, and eventually found the long-lost hair schmutz. Hooray! Now, to go pick up my friend and get on with the evening's festivities.

Now, where did I put my keys?

Honey... where's the ______?

My husband hates it when I "pick up" because I move things that he knew the location of (the middle of the floor, on the counter, under the couch) and put them in other places that he doesn't know because he wasn't there and I won't remember in more than 5 minutes.

So, with that information, I present this e-mail conversation, circa yesterday:

Him: We didn't actually buy a wet-vac...
Me: We did to buy a wet vac... at the very end!  Didn't we?
Him: Nope. If we did, where'd it go?
Me: in the garage... with all the other stuff... the little red thing...
Him: Little red thing? What little red thing? Surely not the leafblower...
Me: No no no, looks like a bucket with a black lid... you know... like a wet vac...
Him: I have NO clue what you're talking about.

Me: This is what a wet vac looks like:

Him: I know what a wet-vac looks like.  I have no clue what, in our house, you think is a wet-vac. Where in the garage do you think this mystery sucker is?

Me: somewhere... under some stuff... maybe near the back...

Him: Define 'back'.

Me: where the door is... the garage door, not the... garage door.  Away from the house.
Him: I present to you, some things from our garage which are red...