The other night some of my friends and I were talking about how amazing, awesome, and handsome our husbands are.
Somehow we fell onto the topic of how one person’s family seemed unable to find anything in the refrigerator. We were each shocked to learn that ALL of our people shared the same affliction. It’s called FRIDGE BLINDNESS.
It’s real, and our families have it.
It goes like this: the person looking for the food item stands in front of the fridge looking for said thing and they just can’t see it. It’s scary and they don’t know what to do so they call for the wife or mom.
“I can’t find the ketchup!” they shout, panicked at the prospect of a meal without the goopy red stuff.
You try to direct them, encourage them by telling them exactly what shelf it is on, behind the milk and under the relish.
It doesn’t help.
Finally, frustrated, you go over and try to see what’s so scary. You realize the prospect of actually moving other things around is just too much. You are needed to move the milk and relish so that the ketchup is actually visible.
One of our friends, Linda, has a genius plan. She tells the person looking for the thing in the fridge, “Close your eyes. Imagine the thing that you want out of the refrigerator. See the color in your head, the words printed on the package, imagine holding it in your own hand.” The person will look at her expectantly, excited about the picture in their head. Then she tells them, “Now move things until you have the thing that matches the picture in your head.”
For reference, she says this in a kind, soothing voice NOT a yelling, irritated voice.
Just in case you were wondering.
We all thought this was genius, so I’ve made a printable for our refrigerator.
Just click here to print your own: #1Printable of The How to Find Things in the Magic Box that Keeps Everything Cold.
I’ve known for a while now that a major role of mine in the family is the FINDER OF ALL THINGS, I just don’t know how it happened.
It’s ironic because I am always losing my things. Mainly my phone. I am constantly losing my phone. I probably lose my things because I spend so much time looking for other people’s things.
It could be all their fault now that I really think about it.
Back to the fridge, though. It is completely baffling to me that my people will stand there, with a given task of retrieving something like salad dressing, and behave as though they’re at an art museum. They gaze as though the refrigerator is one dimensional, a painting to be observed, not a 3-D thing to be reached into, whose items can be shifted in order to find the thing being looked for.
The worst is when they open the fridge doors just to figure out what to feed themselves. There is an inevitable shout, “Ugh! There’s nothing to eat here!”
I used to feel obligated to point out the cheese, meat, fresh veggies, olives, pickles, or leftover whatever. It took me too long to realize that this was a rhetorical question meant only to bait me into a rabbit hole of a conversation that inevitably ended with me fixing that person some kind of food. Usually a peanut butter jelly.
I do make a super awesome peanut butter and jelly.
Fridge Blindness carries over, in case you didn’t know. Remote controls are invisible, shoes hide in plain sight, and no one ever, ever knows where the dish detergent is. Ever.
If I complain about the fact that I have to know where everything is, I get a sweet hug and “At least you know you’re needed.”
Which, on one hand is true, but on another hand, I feel like a robot could replace me pretty easily.
Except for the peanut butter and jelly making.
That’s all me.