“Where are the luggage scales kept?” he asked, one day last week.
“Either in the second drawer of the bureau or in the big case or one of the holdalls” I replied.
My heart sank as I heard him rummaging around in the drawer, no doubt leaving everything where I couldn’t get hold of it, and then dragging the dusty case onto the unmade bed. No scales.
“You lent it to Peter. Did he give it you back?”
Yesterday we established that Peter didn’t have it so today the rummaging started again. Everywhere. When my dearly beloved rummages nothing is ever put back in the place it came out of. In desperation I asked “Why are you looking in my wardrobe? It can’t be there.”
“It could be anywhere” he replied and, alas, if he’d been the one to put it away, that is so true.
Finally he strolled, smirking, into the dining room, bearing the offending item.
“OK. Where was it?” I asked, knowing that the smirk indicated he’d been right and I’d been wrong.
“In the holdall with the blue straps.”
“That’s one of the places where I’d said it’d be.”
“Ah, no. You said ‘in the holdalls’ but it was in the pocket of the holdall.”
“So? It’s still the holdall.”
"You didn't mention the pocket." He was still smirking, knowingly, happily. In his own eyes he was vindicated and a winner.
“Shall we call it quits?” I asked, wearily.
“OK.” He exited, jauntily, still swinging the scales.
Almost 45 years of marriage to an alien.
“There is always a well-known solution to every human problem - neat, plausible, and wrong.” H.L. Mencken