When soap is camouflaged

by Katie on August 4, 2011

Last night was much like any other in this house.

We finished supper, then Brandon headed off to wash the farm off of himself, while I picked up a few things around the house and went out to feed and pen up the dogs for the night. I was out a bit longer than usual, rinsing water bowls and convincing one stubborn dog to actually get in the pen.

When I walked back in the door, I hear, “Kaaaaa-Tiiieeee!…Kaaaaa-Tiiieeee!…Kaaaaa-Tiiieeee!…” over the running shower.

This is nothing new. I am typically called into the bathroom no fewer than two times during Brandon’s nightly shower. For some reason, this is the best place for him to remember noteworthy things to tell me from his day.

So I enter. “Yes, Dear?” I ask, in my fake sweet wife voice.

“Where were you? I needed you. I called you forever. I don’t even need you anymore.”

“Sorry, just outside putting up the dogs. What’d you need?”

“Soap. There wasn’t any. I already got it myself.”

I was slightly wondering why he would have called me for ten minutes to get a bar of soap from the cabinet that is six inches from the shower curtain, but since it had happened before (more than once), I didn’t really think too much of it.

Sarcastically, but still in my sweet wife voice, I replied, “Oh, I’m really sorry you had to reach your arm out of the shower to grab a bar of soap.”

“No. There wasn’t any. I had to go all the way to the other shower to get some. It was cold.”

Confused, because I keep good tabs on the soap, toilet paper, Kleenex and paper towel stocks around here, I opened the cabinet. Dead center, was the open plastic wrap of a six pack of Dove soap. With two boxed bars remaining.

“What are you talking about? There are two bars right here.”

“What?! No way! Don’t touch it! I want to see exactly where it was,” he said, apparently convinced I had hidden the soap inventory from him.

In a minute or so, he steps out, and I open the soap cabinet, revealing the package positioned in center stage.

“Oh, well, no wonder why I couldn’t find it,” he exclaims, “It was camouflaged!”

“Uhh, camouflaged?”

“Yeah, usually it’s all stacked up neatly in the corner in those little boxes, not sitting out with the plastic still on it. The wrapper camouflaged it from me.”

Wow. That’s all I have to say about that.

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