This morning, Moe asked me if I had seen his belt.
Two weeks ago, roughly, he bought mustard when we already had two full ones in the fridge.
At least twice every month, I am asked by him where his work keys are.
All of these incidents have led me to the conclusion that in every cohabitation agreement there is one party who is both the Finder of Things and the Knower of Mundane Household Details.
This arrangement both exasperates me and alarms me a little bit. Will I always be the Finder of Things? Do I always have to know the exact quantity of condiments present in this household? Will there be a day when I lose something essential to my life, like my wallet or my slim grip on my sanity, and Moe will know exactly where it is and go and retrieve it for me?
I am hesitant to proclaim that this is a gendered issue, that being a woman makes you predisposed to knowing where things are at all times and being able to calculate boring, useless details that apparently have to be calculated constantly in both the (sort of) smooth functioning of a home and in the frightening business of being an adult that is (sort of) responsible for a young human being some of the time.
So, as a social experiment that everyone (no one) will be wildly interested in, I am going to pretend to lose something every day for a week and see if Moe can find it for me. I will probably never post the results, since I can almost guarantee that he will have no idea where any of these objects are, and I am also terrible at carrying out any sort of commitment that doesn’t involve working or sleeping.
And his belt was on the dresser.