There are many reasons my husband bows down to worship at the altar of his wife loves me. I’m a smart lady who happens to be rather bendy. Men like that.

I can also make pie from scratch, any type of jam and a salsa that will burn the taste buds right off your tongue while your eyes water with gratitude. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. One look at Boo’s expanding waistline demonstrates this truth.

I can operate a sewing machine without stitching my fingers to the fabric, wield a chainsaw with out lopping off a limb and change the brake pads of a vehicle without worrying about my tires falling off. On top off all this, I still have all of my own teeth.

I am practically the perfect wife. There isn’t much I can’t do. (Disclaimer: That said, there is a lot I REFUSE to do. Like taking out the trash or picking up puppy poop. Just for the record.)

However, for all my stellar qualities, I may have one or two small, insignificant design flaws. My very own Achilles heel if you will.

But rather than focus on my flaws I like to celebrate them. So what if I’m an accident-prone klutz with all the grace of a three-legged blind elephant? Well that just makes me unique!

And if I can’t remember where I put the car keys or my passport, it just means I’m using my brain for other more important things such as memorizing the elements of the periodic table and studying the works of Goethe and Plato.

(Or, um, more likely reading pop culture web sites and composing odes as to why the world would be better off with less Spencer Pratt on television.)

So what if I’m a little absent-minded. I’m sure Einstein had his moments as well. Just because I have been known to forget to diaper a child who has no bowel control or I have lost my 23rd bankcard doesn’t make me a lesser person. It just makes me soul crushingly annoying and maddening to live with interesting.

I keep reminding my husband that despite my many various flaws, I am a catch. He could do much worse. I mean, there are far hairier woman in the world than I am. Right?

Boo, however, remains unmoved by this argument when he has to chop the lock off of our rural post box because I’ve lost yet another set of keys to gain access to our mail. Or when I’ve forgotten to pay his cell phone bill despite numerous and repeated pleasant reminders to do so.

He gets a little testy when I tell him I need another driver’s license because I lost my wallet after placing it on my lap in the car, getting out of the vehicle and having it fall unnoticed on the ground only to mysteriously disappear upon my return to said vehicle.

He no longer chuckles when he finds the cordless phone beside the milk inside our refrigerator and he certainly isn’t amused when I misplace my spectacles and wander around in a blind panic, hysterical and unseeing because I can’t remember where I took them off.

Which is why I’m not telling him I forgot the kids eye examination appointment last month. I’ll never hear the end of it.

You see Boo has a mind like a steel trap. He never forgets anything, has almost perfect recall of events and actually uses his original bankcard until the magnetic strip wears off and the bank needs to send him a new one. (That’s just showing off in my opinion.)

The man even remembers to put the toilet seat down for crying out loud. Talk about annoyingly thoughtful.

It’s like Commander Data married a bubble-headed blonde. Except Boo is less waxy green than Data ever was.

So the other night when Boo was tearing the house apart, I wasn’t really concerned. I figured he was looking for the remote, which I must have invariably misplaced. For the umpteenth time. Except I noticed the remote was right where it was supposed to be. Curious, I watched Boo storm about and mutter under his breath for a few minutes before asking just what the hell he was doing.

“Boo? Just what the hell are you doing?” I asked as the couch cushions went flying. 

“I’m looking for something,” he snarled before stomping off to the laundry room.

“I figured that much out, dough head. I meant, just what have I lost this time that you need?” Like duh.

No answer, but I could hear the dinging of the dryer door being flung open and suddenly clothes were sailing out and landing on the kitchen floor. Curiouser and curiouser. Maybe he was looking for that shiny gold man-thong I bought him as a stocking stuffer once upon a time.

“Can I help you look?” I managed to say this with only a trace of a smirk in my voice.

“No.” 

“Well, can you at least tell me what you are looking for? Maybe I know where it is.” Because while I can’t remember the p.i.n. number to my bankcard but you know, I will always remember where I hide the batteries for my <s>battery operated buddy</s> flashlights.

Boo looked up from sifting through the pockets of pants he was emptying and I could tell he was weighing whether or not to confide in me. Realizing I’m like a bitch with a bone, he gave in and quietly muttered something.

“What? I didn’t understand you. Speak up. Remember? I’m half-deaf.”

Boo sighed like a teenage girl trying to explain the cool factor of the Jonas Brothers to her decidedly unhip parents and very quickly repeated, “Ilostmyweddingring.”

Holy shit batman! My husband lost something! Trying to hide my gleeful smirk, I told him I didn’t hear him. Again. In reality, I totally heard him and was just enjoying the irony of the turn of events.

“I. LOST. MY. WEDDING. RING.” With that he sheepishly avoided eye contact and wished the ground would swallow him whole, I’m sure. 

 My husband never takes off his ring. He’d rather chop off his finger. He says a wedding ring is chick-bait. Truth is, he just knows I’d rip off his limbs and beat him with them if he ever dared removing it.

I couldn’t say anything. It’s hard to speak when you are doubled over laughing. When I finally caught my breath, I asked him when the last time he remembered seeing it.

“I took it off when I was changing the tractor’s oil. I remember putting it in my pocket and now I can’t find it.” 

He looked up at me and caught me smiling.

“Shut up, Tanis. It isn’t funny.” Poor sport.

“I can’t help it. It is kinda funny. You never lose anything! And you are insufferably conceited when I manage to misplace something. I’m just reveling in the moment. Give me a second and I’ll revert to back to my sympathetic self in a second.”

Rolling his eyes he wandered to the bathroom to eye the sink’s drain. I, of course, followed him while mocking him the entire time. I’m helpful like that.

“You know Boo, of all the things I’ve lost, I’ve never lost anything as important as our wedding rings. I mean, that’s big. You don’t just lose a wedding ring.”

I could tell he was getting a little annoyed with me. Too bad. This was my moment and I wasn’t going to let him suck the fun out of it for me.

“A wedding ring is so much worse to lose than a car key or a debit card. It’s even worse than losing an entire purse!”

“You know what this makes you, don’t you Boo? A LOSER. Get it?” I gloated.

“Shut up Tanis.”

“Does this mean I have to buy you another? I think you should have to pony up for the replacement ring. Why should I have to cough up the dough to buy you another ring when you were so irresponsible as to lose it in the first place?” Never mind the fact that Boo has more than once coughed up the funds for lost glasses, books, keys, licenses, remotes, shoes…etc.

I could see my words were wearing on him like nails on a chalkboard. Good. Heh.

“You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Why yes, I am. I feel like I’m finally on the moral high ground over here and I’m taking the time to plant my flag and sing to the heavens.” I was crowing. Just a little. But it felt soooo good.

He may have rolled his eyes. I couldn’t tell because the tears of laughter were blurring my vision.

“Moral high ground! I don’t freaking think so, Ms. I’ll-lose-anything-if-it’s-not-chained-around-your-neck. You aren’t exactly in a place to judge me. Or have you forgotten that you just lost your automatic car start remote with all your keys on it less than a week ago?”

Picky, picky.

“Oh please. We had two sets. And a set of car keys and a clicker isn’t even on the same playing field as losing a wedding ring. The symbol of our love. The bond of eternity worn on a finger.” I waggled my fingers at him and let loose with my piece de resistance, “I have never lost MY wedding rings. I am no LOSER in that department.”

Picking up a pillow from our bed, he whipped it at my head. 

“That’s because you never wear the damn things!” he countered as he continued to hunt.

Damn. I hate when dude has a point. 

Just then Boo opened my jewellery drawer and spied his golden wedding band.

“AHA! I knew I couldn’t have lost it!” he grinned as he slipped it back on.

Turning to me he smiled. “Guess I have never lost my wedding ring either. And since I don’t lose anything, ever, I’ll just take that flag of yours and replace it with my own on that there patch of moral high ground you were standing on.”

Just as he was passing by me to go resume his life as the man who never loses anything, he stopped and planted a kiss on my forehead.

“Loser,” he whispered and then giggled his way to the kitchen.

Damn it. I may just have the hide the darn thing when he is not looking so I can get back on that moral high ground I was enjoying so much.

After all, all is fair in love and war. And this loser needs all the help she can get.