My daughter’s running late for work and hollers, “Do you know where the measuring cups are?”
“Right in front of your nose on that hook,” I reply and finish taking care of the cats. When I descend to the kitchen, she’s found those but wants the 2-cup Pyrex model – which is on the same shelf where it’s resided all her life. Somehow it wound up behind the box of garbage bags, and somehow she couldn’t think to look that far.
She says she can’t use the plastic set on the hook because the cup needs to be microwaved. So…why couldn’t she just measure the desired amount into a coffee mug…
Then she disappears while I’m putting food in the dog bowls, their food being on the little back porch. “WHERE’D YOU GO?!”
“I’M DOWNSTAIRS. I MEAN – I’M UPSTAIRS.”
Honest to gawd, that girl can’t find her own butt with both hands.
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