So not my fault…

My grandmother always blamed my grandfather for everything…whether it was really his fault or not.  My grandfather always would just laugh it off and it eventually became a big joke and we would all always say that it was Poppy’s fault when something went wrong. 

I have to tell you…I’m surprised he didn’t deck her.  Because getting blamed for everything all the time?  It’s really fucking annoying.

Yesterday, J was in the garage and I was in the bedroom folding laundry.  I heard him bellowing for me and I answered him, but he didn’t hear me.  The dogs had to go out anyway, so I stopped what I was doing and went down to the garage.  I open the door and the following conversations begins:

J: Where are all the tape measures?  Why can’t you put anything away?
Me: How should I know where the tape measures are?  I haven’t used them lately.
J: Well, there are four tape measures in this house and none of them are here in the garage where they are supposed to be.  I always put things away so it must have been you.
Me: (losing my mind and screaming) ARE YOU KIDDING ME???  I AM GOING TO FIND THOSE FUCKING TAPE MEASURES AND WHEN I DO I’M GOING TO THROW THEM AT YOUR HEAD! (What?  I was upset at being wrongly accused.)

I threw open the basement door and went inside to where I was sure I would find the stupid tape measures.  I walked over to the shelf under the electrical box…where J has a tendency to leave everything…and, sure enough, I found the first one.  “OH LOOK WHAT WE HAVE HERE…SHOCKING…RIGHT HERE WHERE YOU LEAVE ALL YOUR CRAP!”

Then I walked over to the laundry room because that’s also a favorite place for him to leave things.  I didn’t find anything in there, but on my way out I spotted a second tape measure on the floor by the stairs…right next to J’s utility knife.  “OH…OH…LOOK WHAT ELSE I FOUND!”

I walked into the garage with a tape measure in each hand…still yelling…”LOOK AT THIS…LOOK WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES AND ACTUALLY LOOK FOR SOMETHING.”

J’s response…”I didn’t leave those in there.  You must have.”

I can’t repeat what I said next…it wasn’t very ladylike.  Suffice it to say I yelled some more and stormed upstairs while slamming every door that got in my way. 

When I walked into the living room I spotted yet another tape measure sitting on the coffee table.  J walked into the room right behind me and I pointed out my discovery.  His response this time…”That’s where that one belongs…just leave it there.”  Really?  That’s where that one belongs? 

I was so angry that I had to leave the room.  Because J was totally serious.  He was swearing up and down that he was not the one leaving the tape measures all over the house…despite all evidence to the contrary.  He absolutely refused to admit that he didn’t put his own stuff away. 

And he does crap like this all the time.  It’s always “Where did you put my shorts?” and “You used up all the peanut butter”.  Dude…they aren’t my shorts…I didn’t touch them.  Also…I don’t eat regular peanut butter so don’t look at me.  It’s always him, but he never claims the responsibility.  Everything is always my fault and he’s driving me bananas. 

So I ended up finding three of the four tape measures last night, but there was still one missing.  When I took the dogs out this morning I checked the basement again and nothing.  Then I realized that the tape measure that I didn’t find was “my” tape measure (when we bought the house J bought a set of tools and a tool belt for me…which is pink!).  I checked the pocket on my tool belt and sure enough…my tape measure was exactly where it was supposed to be. 

Does anyone else have this problem???


  1. LOL, this is such a guy thing. I used to have these fights with my ex all the time. They always started out very accusatory and then I’d have to rummage through the piles to find whatever papers he was looking for… And they were always there in clear daylight! I think they all have a chip missing. When we lose things, we look with our eyes open. We don’t accuse the first person within our vicinity of taking things (as if you go around stealing tape measures!!!!).

  2. Sounds like something I would have gone through with my ex-husband (either of them) but not something I encounter with my current boyfriend.

    In fact, once after we moved in together I couldn’t find my 3-hole punch so I went and got his from his office (we have our own offices, this helps a lot) and met him in the hallway on my way back to the other side of the house.

    “I can’t find my hold punch so I’m borrowing yours”

    “Well, that is yours, I don’t have one anymore.”

    “Oh! Well, I’m borrowing my own hole punch but we can keep in your office since I’ll always know where to find it, then!”

    That’s how things go in our house :)

  3. Gosh, Shan! Stop moving all the tape measurers and J’s pants!! WTF is wrong with you!?!?!

    M is lucky he doesn’t pull this kind of crap with me. Actually I’m probably just lucky he doesn’t pull this kind of crap with me. I can see how it would be really annoying.

    But now that you know that the coffee table is where that tape measurer is SUPPOSED to go (wtf?) then you can just leave it there forever. Either that or continue to move it back there and if he argues just be like “well that’s what you SAID”.

  4. I realize how frustrating this was…but holy hell, I was laughing my ass off at your re-telling!

  5. You bet I have this problem! I swear he doesn’t even bother looking before he shouts “I can’t find the xyz. Do you know where it is?” And yes, if he would only put things back WHERE THEY BELONG he would always be able to find them again. Seriously. How many years will it take till he gets that?!?!

  6. i think you should take the tape measure and measure the meat balls you made for him last night

  7. Actually, I have a confession to make….this is that thing that I do. Except that he is always the one who moved it. The only truly obnoxious part is the string of excuses he gives me for WHY he moved it and didn’t put it back where it belongs. This is only aggravated by the fact that pretty much every time he deploys, I get bored with the house and start moving and rearranging everything that’s not nailed down, and some things that are. So, when he comes back and tries to unload the dishwasher, it’s just a catastrophe.

    I have, however, decided that the coffee table is the perfect place to store one’s tape measure, just in case. And that would always be the first place I would look. Because there is SO much measuring twice and cutting once that goes on in the living room.

    What I’m more intrigued by is how you ended up with 4 tape measures?? And next time, I dare you to only “find” the pink one and hide the rest….because he totally deserves that.

    • My dad asked me the same thing…why we have 4 tape measures. The honest answer is…I have no idea. The only answer I have is that J is a secret hoarder.

  8. You are the third blogger who went off on the hubs this weekend! One of them being myself. We had two issues-the most retarded being:

    “Babe, where are my swim trunks?”
    Me: I dunno
    Him: Didn’t you wash them?
    Me: No
    Him: You knew I was going swimming.
    Me: You are 31, wash your own @#$@# trunks! Why do -I- have to wash -your- trunks?!?
    Me: *spiral right out of control*

    wtf is the deal with these men!?

  9. I cannot imagine how frustrating this must be, but your retelling is incredibly humorous! I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from throwing the damn tape measures at his head. Every single one of them!

    • Oh man, you don’t know how bad I wanted to. But I figured that is just one more thing I’d have to hear him bitching about.

      • Very true. You’d end up having to listen to him whine and moan in pain, and maybe even deal with him bleeding. Then, finally when you got sick enough of it, you’d probably have to hall his butt to the hospital to be checked out. Totally not worth it.

        You are a much better person, and way more level-headed than I am. I wouldn’t have thought all that through, and then would’ve ended up having to hall hubs to the hospital and make him lie about how he hurt himself.

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