My wife can’t shut the front door

Why...

Can my wonderful wife not close the front door? In nearly everything she achieves levels of saintly patience with me that would justify beatification. However, she likes to play the hokey-cokey with the front door. She closes it. Thinks. Opens it. Goes into the house to drop something off, retrieve something or check if something is switched off, then closes it… and repeats. I have asked a few of my married friends and they all admit this particular square dance with the front door is more common than I thought. I assume most airline stewards/stewardesses are not married or they would never close the aircraft door.

...and another thing

I am not blameless when it comes to exiting the house and then wanting to get back in, as I frequently shut the front door having forgotten my keys. Therefore, much as I would like to open the door to retrieve them I can’t.

The amount of times we consistently do the same illogical things is bewildering. I don’t think I have ever taken a trip without at some point being gripped by the cold hand of fear that I have mislaid my boarding pass or dropped a passport… but I can carry around a garage parking ticket for months and never seem to be able to get rid of it.

...and another thing

Then there are the ‘homing’ items that blight my life. Things you deliberately get rid of, only to find they are still hanging around. The content of my fridge has homing qualities. I am sure I have thrown out a yoghurt that has passed it’s sell by date only to find it a month later growing enough penicillin to deal all the STD of an aircraft carrier docked at port.

...and another thing

The number one for f*ck sake moment of repeated ‘why did I do that’ is the supermarket. No matter how many times it makes me jump up and down in fury, I never seem to have change to release a trolley.

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