Those Little Corn Cob Holders

"Where are the corn cob holders?"

I was searching every drawer in the kitchen, tearing through everything, trying to find them. Ever since Ronnie Dale has retired and I have been having too many surgeries that keep me down, he has taken over much of the house work, and consequently I must dig and poke and scramble to find the things that I need. I have forbidden him to do my laundry, but I still find things missing when he is "just trying to help" by taking my things from the dryer. He folds things I want on hangers, and he hangs the things I want folded. His retirement is emotionally killing me.

Since he is the one who can't seem to eat corn on the cob without holders, Ronnie Dale jumped out of his recliner to dash into the kitchen. He began rifling through the drawers I had just perused.

"I just went through that drawer," I announced. "They're not there. What did you do with them? You didn't put them in the dishwasher, did you, because little things like that can get dislodged and ruin the machine." 

I was really getting miffed now, just thinking about replacing the dishwasher, which I knew for a fact would be breaking down soon.

"They're here somewhere," he said with his head inside the lower cupboard.

"What? You think you put them down with the pots and pans?" What did he think he was doing?

"You're just going to have to eat corn with your bare hands."

"But I'll get butter all over my hands, and it's burns." 

"Whine to me later. And get out of my kitchen when I'm cooking!"

So, this morning when I awoke I heard the strangest sounds coming from the kitchen. I usually awake to a quiet, peaceful setting with the wonderful aroma of fresh brewed hazelnut coffee. He's so good to me. When I strolled out to the kitchen I found my peaceful morning interrupted by Susie Homemaker sitting on the floor humming. Strewn all around her were the pots and pans from one of the cupboards. In one hand, Susie had a spray bottle of cleaner, and in the other was an old T-shirt from the rag bag.

"What are you doing?"

I asked this question quite calmly, even though it was obvious what he was doing, and also why.

"I'm cleaning."

"Indeed you are. You're looking for the corn cob holders, aren't you, and you think you will find them down there?" I was incredulous! "It's not even nine o'clock! Could we please put a little sanity back into our morning, have some coffee, and quiet down?"

"Not till I'm done here," he answered calmly, and kept right on cleaning. And humming. He was still humming. It wasn't a song. It was just notes, humming notes.

I poured my coffee and returned to my room. I think I may have shut the door a little too hard, I'm not sure. I did have to straighten the plaque on the wall; the 1 Corinthians 13 plaque about love. I stayed there for about an hour, until I was ready to have another cup. 

As I ventured down the hall before entering the kitchen I heard it. I couldn't believe it! He was still in there! Nothing in my kitchen was dirty enough for him to be still cleaning there! That's it, I thought. He is constantly cleaning and losing my stuff! He files every little piece of paper that comes in this house! He knows all my doctors' appointments before I do, and he keeps a running list on the board in the laundry room. He takes all my receipts and checks them with the bank statements. He's totally organized and driving me up the wall! I knew I had to do something about this before I had lost every item in the house. I burst into the kitchen, ready for a fight.

"Hey, Babe. Look what I found in the back of the silverware drawer." He smiled at me from the top of the ladder set up by the sink. He pointed to the small pile of corn cob holders on the counter. "And I found your wedding ring keeper up here on top of the cupboard with the ruby ring you couldn't find. How in the world did it get up here?"

I knew how. I set it there the last time I was cleaning the top of the cupboards. Yes. The time I fell from the counter top I was standing on and broke my wrist. Maybe I could let him clean if he wanted to. I should be thankful and not nag at him about it. 

I looked up at him and, again, he smiled at me as he sprayed and wiped, sprayed and wiped. And hummed. I went back to my room and shut the door.