Where oh where is my pasta strainer? I opened the drawer where my strainer has been living for the past month, only to see a neat line of water bottles in its place. Dang it, Nanny!
She moves things. Every. Day. I’m not sure if it’s a compulsion to feel productive so she creates work where none is needed, or if she has an eye for what is visually pleasing to her, but it is driving me crazy.
While I was looking for the strainer I found that she had moved the paper plates from the pantry to the cupboard where the water bottles used to live. I checked where the paper plates used to be, hoping it had just been a 3 way exchange, but no luck. I didn’t find the strainer, but I will know where the cat food is when I need it (as long as she keeps it in that spot).
She does the same thing with my carpets. Do not mess with my carpets. Probably 2 times per week I come home to find one of my beauties in a new place in the house. This week it was the carpet from my bedroom moved to the front hall and the one from the family room placed under the stairs. The worst offenses were when she hauled one of the beige Home Depot carpet remnants that came with the house down from the 3rd floor storage area and laid it down in my bedroom. When I saw it for the first time I felt like I was witnessing the desecration of the temple.
Adding to my pain, she had even moved furniture so she could tuck the ugly, scratchy, bland ends of that remnant under my bed. It’s the equivalent of moving my Ferrari to the backyard and parking my Toyota Carolla in the garage instead. Why?! I can’t even fathom the reason. I removed the offending item from my bedroom as if it were a piece of roadkill and grumbled under the weight of it as I dragged it back up the stairs to the 3rd floor landing. I would have preferred to drag it outside to give to someone in need of floor coverings, but we have to store all 5 of them for the next family to move here, so I can’t get rid of them. I would have appreciated these beige carpets back in our 2nd Lieutenant days, when we had base housing with asbestos tiles on the floor and nothing to cover them, but I now that I’ve upgraded, I want to actually use and enjoy the good stuff!
I have told her “don’t touch the carpets” and “don’t move the carpets,” but … language. She says yes she understands and then next thing I know I’ve got my Qashqai underfoot as I walk in the front door (that was yesterday). At my limit, I declared loudly, “I don’t like this carpet here” and she hurriedly whisked it away and brought it back upstairs. It sounds cold, but that might be the only way to make this stop.
It’s amazing though — I will feel totally disgruntled and grouchy about someone being in my house and moving my things around and then dinnertime arrives and the savage beast is soothed. She made this baked mac and cheese that made me not even care that I couldn’t find my toothpaste (moved to a different shelf) or my gray dress pants (still haven’t found those. I’ll enjoy the mac and cheese and buy new ones . . .)
*****
I’m a bit afraid to say that I think after 4 months, I have finally gotten her to understand that I don’t want the rugs moved around. For all I know I’ve jinxed it and I might come home tomorrow and find my carpets in all different rooms of the house, but for the past week all of my floor coverings have stayed in the same place. It’s a Thanksgiving miracle.