Him: You smell like olives.
Me: Really? Like pickles?
Him: No, like olives.
Me: What exactly do olives smell like?
Him: I don't know.
How can I smell like something he doesn't know the smell of?
Conversation continued after he read the above:
Him: Hmph. I know what olives smell like. I just can't explain it.
Me: The only olives I can think of smell like pickles.
Him: No. They don't smell like pickles.
Me: Do they smell good or bad?
Him: I don't know. Hmph. You should be making fun of yourself for not knowing what olives smell like.
Deep sigh.
Him: The wreath shed pine needles all over the front entrance.
Me: Yup.
Him: We should clean that up.
Me: Yup. Why don't you bring the vacuum downstairs with you?
Him: I didn't know the vacuum was upstairs.
Me: Do you even know where the vacuum "lives"?
Him: Of course.
Me: Where?
Him: In the closet?
Me: Which closet?
Him: The hall closet?
Me: Nope.
Him: Hmm. Then I don't know where the vacuum "lives".
It won't get any better... we've lived here for 7 years, and Scott STILL doesn't know where I keep my mixing bowls, the vacuum or any of our cleaning supplies. He asked me the other day if we "owned one of those scrubby things to clean the toilet." Hmmm... toilet brush?
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